
Pass ] ^hl^_^ 
Book : _ 



OofpghtN . 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSffi 



Speeches 

Their Preparation and Their Delivery 



By 
Alexander Burton 

H 
Author of "Public Speaking Made Easy," etc., etc. 




New York 
Edward J. Clode 



"? 



^ 



.0* 



v. 



%*' 



COPYRIGHT, 1921, 1922, BY 
EDWARD J. CLODE 



Entered at Stationers' Hall 



PKINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 



AUG -4 72 

©CI.A681240 
V > I 



I 



zAfter Dinner Speeches 
HoJp to <^kCake "Them 

Chapter I 
INTRODUCTORY 

N the Ingoldsby Legends, there is a 
description of the monks, belonging to 
a certain order. Thus: 



"Ne'er suffered to speak, think only in Greek, 
"And subsist as the bears do by sucking their paws" 

By contrary, this quotation bears on the 
art of after-dinner speaking. By contrary 
indeed! For the company with which we 
are concerned is by no means silent, accord- 
ing to the discipline for the monks, nor does 
it do its thinking in Greek. Rather, it does 
little thinking in any language — as little 
as possible, and instead of the melancholy 

[73 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

travesty of eating by which monks and 
bears seek to assuage the pangs of fasting, our 
fortunate assembly is rilled to repletion with 
the best of food. 

The final statement is of fundamental 
importance in our consideration of post- 
prandial oratory. The characteristic quality 
of such oratory is determined by the mood of 
those listening to the speaker, and the mood 
itself is the product of the meal. When 
persons have dined well, the activities of 
digestion make a special demand on the blood 
supply. In consequence, less blood circulates 
in the brain, and intellectual energy di- 
minishes. The whole result is a sense of well- 
being, in which mental effort would prove 
irksome, but which is agreeably disposed 
toward the lighter forms of entertainment. 

It is, then, for very positive and material 
reasons that the art of after-dinner speaking 
must be considered quite apart from oratory 
in general. The orator for more serious oc- 
casions must depend primarily on an in- 
tellectual achievement, if he is to make any 
[8] 



INTRODUCTORY 

success worth while. He must present an 
orderly discourse, justified by sound reason- 
ing. Without this logical basis of argument, 
his persuasive skill and verbal eloquence are 
barren things. The after-dinner speaker, 
however, is confronted with a wholly different 
task. It may be asserted, in fact, that his 
entire duty is to entertain. The hour fol- 
lowing on a feast is not a period for instruction 
or edification: it is a period for enjoyment, 
pure and simple. Let the emphasis be on 
that word "simple." Simplicity must be 
the keynote of the entertainment offered by 
the speaker. Here is no place for com- 
plexities, for the intricacies of genius in argu- 
ment. Whatever is said must be of a sort 
that the hearers may follow fully without 
any least suggestion of mental strain. When 
the speaker compels his listeners to con- 
centrate their minds in an effort to think 
deeply, he interrupts the pleasant processes 
of digestion, and that interruption reacts 
emotionally on his audience, so disagreeably 
that both the speech and speaker are dis- 

C9] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

liked. The brilliant idea, the tremendous 
appeal, the erudition of the scholar should be 
rigorously barred from this interval of re- 
laxation, ease and goodfellowship. The talk, 
whatever its theme, must be harmonious to 
the spirit of the occasion, or it will be a failure. 
Perhaps the one word that may best char- 
acterize the quality to be sought for this 
form of speaking is geniality. This is well 
illustrated in the person of Chauncey M. 
Depew, whose ability as an after-dinner 
speaker was of the highest order. His geni- 
ality was always distinctive, in both manner 
and words. It is a lamentable truth that 
such geniality is often lacking. Its absence 
means an address from which the reputation 
of the speaker and the patience of his audience 
alike suffer. The man with a message must 
not rant it after dinner. Here is no place to 
parade the atrocities in Armenia, or to recite 
statistics that prove the salvation or damna- 
tion of this or that. The response of the 
listeners to these, and the like, at such a time, 

will be either scowls or yawns. 
[10] 



INTRODUCTORY 

It is evident, at the outset, that the require- 
ment of geniality involves in itself as well 
simplicity, to which reference has already 
been made. For geniality demands sim- 
plicity as an essential to its character. The 
pompous man is never truly genial, however 
hard he may try to show himself in that 
aspect. Similarly, the pompous manner is 
fatal to the success of the after-dinner speaker 
since it renders geniality impossible. The 
necessary geniality is merely the sense of 
well-being within one's self extended outward 
into unity with the happy mood of the com- 
pany as a whole. The speaker must show 
that he is at ease, that he is contented with 
things in general, with himself and particularly 
with his company. ^ Such geniality is not 
difficult of attainment, for simplicity, sin- 
cerity and practise are the only essentials. 

One who is ambitious to achieve a reputa- 
tion as an after-dinner speaker must appreci- 
ate thoroughly the nature of his undertaking. 
It is not his duty to prepare a serious oration 
and to deliver it with fire and passion; his 
En] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

part is merely to entertain; to that end he 
should devote all his resources; and accord- 
ing to the measure in which he entertains so 
will be the measure of his success. He need 
not limit himself to froth and frivolity, but 
he must limit himself rigidly to the purpose 
of entertaining, and of entertaining only. 
There may be crumbs of information, of 
learning, of sentiment, just as there may be 
caraway seeds in a loaf of rye bread, but these 
must be no more than scattered crumbs. It 
must be borne in mind constantly that the 
occasion for such speaking is a festive one. 
The audience has satisfied its physical crav- 
ings, and is in a condition of placid content- 
ment, which will resent any serious disturb- 
ance, but will welcome a gentle mental fillip 
as a subtle sauce piquant to the feast. Savages 
have always taken their food very seriously. 
Civilized man tends to do the same. When 
a really hungry person sits down to eat, con- 
versation is a nuisance. To mingle dining, 
dancing, prima donna, and worse, is a present- 
day absurdity. In baronial halls of an earlier 
[12] 



INTRODUCTORY 

age, where there was mighty feasting, talking 
was usually taboo until the food had vanished. 
Afterward, came speeches of welcome to 
visitors at the board, and their responses, 
boasting narratives of individual exploits, 
toasts to beauty, all the varied expressions of 
man as a social creature. Human nature 
remains much the same throughout its count- 
less guises. The breaking of bread together, 
the sharing of salt, which has always been 
sanctified in some measure among primitive 
peoples, avails something still in the more 
cultured world of to-day. Ordinarily, some 
degree of fellowship at least is created among 
those who sit together to eat, simply from the 
fact of such association. The effect is en- 
hanced when the gathering is made a par- 
ticular function of importance. The time is 
one for material enjoyment of a wholesome 
sort. That enjoyment brings the assembly 
into a receptive state, in which there is 
readiness to welcome a final, finer pleasure 
to be afforded by a speaker whose art is of a 
sort to satisfy. The orator who realizes 
[13] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

fully the meaning of this mood in his audience 
responds to it, and exercises his arts of enter- 
tainment in an address primarily simple and 
genial, afterward distinctive and diverting ac- 
cording to his individual ability. 



Znl 



Chapter II 
SIMPLICITY 

THE after-dinner speaker should at 
the outset recognize the virtue 
of simplicity in his art, and en- 
deavor persistently to make it an 
attribute of his own. This simplicity is of a 
fundamental sort, and it should be extended 
specifically in three applications. The first 
of the three has to do with the manner, 
generally considered, of the speaker, while 
the second and third are concerned respec- 
tively with the language employed in the 
address and the substance — in other words, 
the form and the idea. 

Now, as to the manner of the speaker. This 
includes his personal appearance, in so far as 
it is within his control; his bearing, facial 
expression, position of the hands, and the 
like; in fact, everything that goes to the 
[15 3 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

making up of appearance and demeanor. And 
just here it is to be noted that the instructions 
concerning simplicity must be of a negative, 
rather than a positive character. It is well 
enough to declare that the speaker must as- 
sume an easy and graceful posture. But it 
is more difficult, if not quite impossible, to 
describe in detail what constitutes an easy 
and graceful posture. It is safe to urge that 
the position assumed be a natural one, in 
order to avoid the effect of self-consciousness 
and evident artificiality. But along with 
this, we must give particular counsel of the 
negative kind, directions as to what should 
not be done. Thus, the attitude, though 
natural, should not be slouchy. The speaker 
should be at pains to stand erect, with head 
held well up. He should not stoop, or let 
his head fall forward, or leave his eyes down- 
cast. He must show by a certain dignity in 
his pose his appreciation of the fact that for 
the moment he is the object of interest to the 
company. An awkward, listless or bored 

air would evidence a lack of respect, and of 
[16] 



SIMPLICITY 

itself create a preliminary prejudice against 
the speaker. The hands should not be thrust 
into the pockets. They should hang loosely 
at the sides. Even the thrusting of one 
within the breast of the coat is to be depre- 
cated. They should not be permitted to 
rest on the table ; there is too much likelihood 
that if thus placed the fingers will presently 
begin to toy with anything that chances to 
lie within reach. When the nervousness of 
a speaker is such that he cannot readily con- 
trol the movements of his hands, he may 
clasp them behind his back, and thus hold 
them in order. He should take care also to 
avoid resting his hands on the back of his 
chair. Besides the awkwardness of this pos- 
ture, it leads almost invariable to a jiggling 
of the chair in a manner that might be highly 
interesting if done by spooks at a seance, but 
can only unpleasantly distract the attention 
of the speaker's audience. In this connection, 
it should be pointed out that a posture of 
ease and dignity can be held only when there 
is no excess of self-consciousness, and such 
[17] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

excess of self-consciousness is escaped simply 
by fixing the attention on the speech itself. A 
real concentration maintained throughout on 
his discourse will save the speaker from any 
embarrassing consciousness of himself. 

Just as the posture should be one of dig- 
nified simplicity, so should the method of 
delivery. Here, again, negative directions 
are important. There must be no ranting. 
The voice should be moderate, of no more 
volume than is necessary for distinctness. 
There should be no tricks of delivery. Ora- 
torical variations of pitch and inflection are 
to be shunned. An ordinary conversational 
tone suffices. The only change from the 
usual manner of talking should be in an in- 
creased distinctness of enunciation, and, of 
course, particular care in the proper formation 
of every phrase and sentence. 

It should be observed in this connection 
that the tendency of present-day oratory of 
the more serious sort is distinctly toward the 
same simplicity. Within recent years, there 
has come an essential change in the methods 
[i8] 



SIMPLICITY, 

of the best public speakers. The spread-eagle 
style of speechmaking still survives, but it is 
to be found chiefly in more remote com- 
munities, where traditions are difficult to 
overcome, and the populace demands of the 
orator a turgid rhetoric delivered with all 
the vocal and gesticulatory embellishments of 
fiery eloquence. But the ablest speakers in 
the chief centers of our civilization prefer a 
simpler fashion of address, and rely chiefly on 
the clearness and power of the argument 
presented. Thus, while discoursing on the 
gravest themes, they approach in manner 
that which has been described as especially 
suitable for the after-dinner speaker. The 
chief difference lies in the quality of geniality, 
concerning which there will be some discussion 
in the chapter following. The genial quality, 
which is essential to the successful after- 
dinner speaker may, or may not, distinguish 
the mode employed by the more serious orator. 
But the after-dinner speaker may find a real 
satisfaction in the trend toward simplicity 
of all oratory. For by so much as he is able 
[19] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

to attain skill in the lighter kind of speech- 
making, he actually is preparing himself for 
success in the more pretentious style of 
oratory. The distinction between the two 
in the matter of manner was most marked in 
the past, but to-day the difference is slight, 
and any excellence acquired in the one is 
easily to be transferred to the other. 

The third application of simplicity is to the 
thought presented in the speech. It is to be 
remembered that the audience is engaged in 
the task of digestion, and these agreeable 
physical processes should not be unduly dis- 
turbed by violent appeals on the part of the 
speaker to either the emotions or the intellect. 
The single exception has to do with humor, 
which seems to stimulate agreeably the di- 
gestive action, and due attention will be 
given to this fact later on. For the present, 
our concern is with the necessity for sim- 
plicity in constructing the outline of the 
address. There should be nothing in the 
least difficult for the audience to follow. In- 
tellectual subtleties are not for such an oc- 

[20] 



SIMPLICITY 

casion. Indeed, the speech must be abso- 
lutely free from anything calculated to tax 
the brains of the listeners. Once thoroughly 
appreciated, this fact greatly lightens the task 
of preparing the after-dinner speech. The 
novice (some who are not novices commit 
the same fault) is likely to strain his mental 
faculties in an effort to assemble ideas of an 
impressive sort. He fancies that his address 
should contain something remarkable in order 
to impress his own ability upon his hapless 
hearers. He therefore cudgels his wits to 
find ideas such as he deems worthy of himself 
and of the occasion. By so much as he suc- 
ceeds in this undertaking, his speech becomes 
ponderous and tedious. He should, on the 
contrary, select a simple idea fitting to the 
occasion and after this selection has been 
made, he should determine an equally simple 
way of introducing the topic, and of con- 
cluding it. As will be shown further on, this 
method is entirely adequate in all circum- 
stances, and admits of endless variation as 
the need arises. In addition, there remains 

[21] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

only the matter of embellishments. Par- 
ticular attention will be given to this phase 
of the subject in a subsequent chapter under 
the heading of "Wit and Humor." 

When it so happens that a person absolutely 
without experience is required to make a 
speech, he is prone to be nervously appre- 
hensive of making an ignominious failure. 
Yet, he need have no such fear. In the first 
place, he may comfort himself with the 
realization that the audience will hardly 
expect any eloquence from such a maiden 
effort. And in the second place, the glib- 
ness of a veteran orator would be rather 
unbecoming, as well as unexpected, in the 
speech of one wholly inexperienced. The 
novice must not be unduly distressed over 
any embarrassment he may feel in an un- 
familiar situation, since the company will 
appreciate his trouble and be sympathetic 
in his behalf. Moreover, the display of 
embarrassment is not unseemly in such cases. 
The hesitating speech is not only tolerated, 
but is approved and applauded. The single 

[22] 



SIMPLICITY 

requirement is that there should be a speech. 
It is advisable that the beginner should ex- 
hibit conspicuously the merit of brevity in 
his address. In this wise, he makes the task 
the easiest possible for both himself and his 
hearers. It is better, too, that in his earliest 
efforts the speaker should not depend on 
extemporaneous utterances. After he has 
spoken in public a few times, he will acquire 
a fair degree of self-confidence, so that he 
may venture to leave the exact fashioning ot 
sentences to the moment of speaking them, 
but in the initial attempts it will be expedient 
to write down a very short address and to 
memorize^ this perfectly. In subsequent 
speeches, it is often advisable to mingle the 
extemporaneous and the memorized.- One 
of the most frequent faults in the extempo- 
raneous speaker is a glaring inability to stop. 
It is a sad fact that innumerable admirable 
speeches are spoiled by rambling on and on 
long after they should have ended. The 
extemporaneous orator in his pride is eager 
to add a concluding sentence of particular 
[23] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

power, and this sentence is always just beyond. 
He tries for it, and tries again ad nauseam. 
This error is most easily avoided by determin- 
ing in advance the exact form of the final 
sentence or paragraph. When this has been 
memorized, the task of ending the speech 
ceases to be troublesome. It is only necessary 
to repeat the memorized bit, and then to sit 
down. 



C24] 



Chapter III 
GENIALITY 

WHOEVER would succeed in 
the art of after-dinner speak- 
ing should take to heart his 
need of geniality as an attri- 
bute. The quality as it is meant here is of 
wide application, and it should persist with- 
out interruption throughout every address 
delivered. It must not be limited merely 
to externals, but it must be characteristic of 
all details in the speech itself and even of the 
substance of the thought. 

Geniality must be conspicuous in the whole 
personality of the speaker. And it is just 
here that there is danger. The geniality 
must be real: an artificial assumption of a 
genial manner fails of its purpose. The 
speaker's appearance of cheery kindliness 
must come from a genuine feeling within him. 
[25] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

It is true that the winning smile and beam- 
ing glance may be cultivated, and the am- 
bitious orator should cultivate them as- 
siduously. But he should be careful to cul- 
tivate as well even more diligently the genial 
mood for himself, of which smile and glance 
shall be the natural manifestation. Honest 
feeling carries a magnetism of its own that 
cannot be duplicated by any skill of hy- 
pocrisy. Moods can be controlled by an 
intelligent exercise of the will and faithful 
practise. The speaker should attain such a 
mastery over himself that whenever he rises 
to address an audience he actually experiences 
that feeling of geniality which is essential to 
his success. 

It is obvious that the genial manner is 
requisite to an occasion of a festive sort. It 
is not so obvious that the genial quality should 
pervade as well the substance and the spirit 
of the speech. Too many speakers err 
in permitting wit to overcome kindliness. 
Laughter may be provoked by clever sar- 
casm and ironic personal allusions, but this 
[26] 



GENIALITY 

sort of brilliancy provokes a certain distrust 
of the orator that reacts very unfavorably 
upon his reputation. Equal laughter may be 
excited by wit and humor that have no sting, 
that leave no aftermath of bitterness. 

So, the speaker who desires a reputation 
of the best must see to it that the genial 
quality be not lacking in every sentence he 
utters. In a more intimate gathering, there 
is much opportunity for references to this or 
that person among the company and these 
by the exercise of ingenuity based on knowl- 
edge may be made very amusing indeed. 
But never at the cost of unpleasantness to 
one thus singled out. There must be no 
malice. Every quip must be founded in good 
nature, made inoffensive by kindliness. The 
speaker will find here ample occasion for the 
exercise of discreet judgment. Most of us 
have our own pet foibles. Of some of these 
we are proud; of others we are ashamed. 
Allusions to the first please us, to the second 
distress us. The speaker may find excellent 
material in the first; he must scrupulously 
[27] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

avoid any reference to the second. The 
condition of true geniality demands the en- 
tertainment of all, the enjoyment of all, not 
the amusing of some at the expense of others. 
The point made here concerning the foibles 
of persons is to be extended still further in 
its application. The speaker must carefully 
avoid any topic over which the company is 
seriously divided in its opinions. He must 
bear in mind constantly that it is his part to 
grace a festive occasion. Nothing could be 
more tactless than to introduce a theme 
provocative of bitter feeling among his 
hearers. If he retains carefully in his con- 
sciousness the necessity for geniality, he will 
escape such errors of taste. Even where a 
particular subject has been assigned to the 
speaker, and this subject is one over which 
ill feeling exists, it is always possible by the 
exercise of ingenuity so to treat the topic 
as to render it harmless. In every instance, 
this method should be followed, or the 
speaker himself will suffer in the public 
estimation. Wit and humor are of vital 
E*8] 



GENIALITY 

importance to the genial effect of a discourse, 
as we shall point out in the following chapter. 
And both wit and humor may be savage and 
cruel, or they may be amiable and joyous. 
The amusement of the evil sort must be 
conscientiously excluded at all times by the 
speaker who is desirous of an honorable fame. 
But there are no bounds except those im- 
posed by his own abilities as to the availa- 
bility of that wit or humor which is free from 
any least trace of malice. 

Let us now consider more extensively this 
most important phase of our subject. 



[29] 



Chapter IV 
WIT AND HUMOR 

WIT and humor are, or at least 
should be, characteristic of 
the after-dinner speech. The 
importance of this quality in 
the lighter form of oratory cannot be over- 
estimated. 

We have no concern with the rather 
difficult distinctions that may be drawn be- 
tween wit and humor. As a matter of fact, 
definitions in this regard are usually rather 
confusing, if not inaccurate. It is enough 
for our purpose to realize that wit is dependent 
on an intellectual activity, while humor may 
have its source in circumstances. For ex- 
ample, there was a humorous situation when 
the cottage gate displayed an imposing sign: 
"Beware the dog," and there was nowhere 
any evidence of the alleged dangerous creature. 
[30] 



WIT AND HUMOR 

But the absurdity of the situation was em- 
phasized by wit when a passer-by rewrote 
the sign to read: "Ware be the dog?" It 
is pure humor in the story of the absent- 
minded professor who, on returning home 
is confronted by a new maid and is informed 
by the servant, unknowing his identity, that 
the professor is out. He thereupon sits down 
on the doorstep patiently to await his own 
return. Here simply the situation in itself is 
ludicrous. There is no intellectual activity 
involved. On the contrary! On the other 
hand, pure wit is displayed in a story that 
has to do with Choate in his younger days. 
On one occasion, he was engaged in trying a 
case in Westchester County, which lies ad- 
jacent to New York City. The opposing 
attorney referred to the " Chesterfieldian ur- 
banity" of his adversary. Choate, in reply- 
ing, spoke casually of the "Westchesterfieldian 
suburbanity" of the other lawyer. 

It is often said that the pun is the lowest 
form of humor, but this allegation, like most 
generalities, is untrue. Actually, a pun may 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

be good or it may be bad. The disfavor with 
which it is regarded is due to the fact that a 
punning habit is of all things tiresome. One 
guilty of this vice makes his plays on words 
in season and out of season with no care as to 
whether or not the idea presented be of an 
amusing sort. Yet in just this point is in- 
volved the value or the worthlessness of any 
pun. When the play on words presents an 
idea that in itself is diverting, the wit is 
admirable. When the verbal juggling offers 
no suggestion that is amusing, the pun is 
absolutely without excuse. There is excel- 
lent wit in the story told above of Choate, yet 
it is only punning. So, too, the merit in the 
story of the changed sign concerning the dog 
lies in the pun. But in each instance, the 
pun itself is of a kind to provoke laughter. 

So much attention to the meaning of wit 
and humor is demanded as preliminary be- 
cause of the vital part they must play in the 
success of an after-dinner speaker. The as- 
pirant to honors in this field should make no 
mistake in regard to the prime need of ability 



WIT AND HUMOR 

to amuse his audience. Let him remember 
all that has been said concerning the require- 
ment for geniality. The same argument 
reaches out with even greater emphasis to 
insist on the employment of wit and humor 
in every such address. We have to do with 
a festal occasion, and the spirit of that oc- 
casion is to be interpreted chiefly always by 
mirth. Pathos and tears are permissible for 
marriages and funerals, but they hamper 
digestion, and are totally out of place after 
dinner. The proper adjuncts to follow feast- 
ing are smiles and laughter. Ripples of 
merriment, or even more gusty cachinnations, 
help, rather than hinder, the digestive proc- 
esses. It is for the speaker to employ all his 
arts toward amusing his audience, toward 
moulding their mental state to a well-being 
in harmony with the physical. It is some- 
times asserted that the after-dinner speaker 
should by no means limit himself to funny 
stories, but should rather present a well- 
thought-out address containing serious ideas. 
Objection to humor as the chief ingredient in 
[33] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

the discourse is based on a total misunder- 
standing as to the spirit of the occasion. 
There are opportunities a plenty for the 
presentation of serious ideas without lugging 
them to the banquet hall. The postprandial 
hour is solely for pleasure, not for heavy- 
thought. The speaker must bear this fact 
in mind constantly, and never, by ill-timed 
gravity thwart the mood of the company. 
In consequence, he is to make his main reliance 
on wit and humor in every such address. In- 
deed, it is almost impossible for him to err 
by being too funny. It was all very well for 
Oliver Wendell Holmes to write a poem in 
which, after describing the ill effects of over- 
much laughter by the printer's boy reading 
the author's verses, to assert that "since then 
I've never dared to be as funny as I can." 
The ambitious speaker need have one last 
qualm of fear in this regard. He may safely 
dare his utmost in the way of being funny, 
and by so much as he is successful in his 
efforts his fame will increase, and the de- 
mands for his presence will multiply. 
[34] 



WIT AND HUMOR 

One who intends to make a habit of after- 
dinner speaking should devote himself very 
earnestly to the art of story-telling. For 
this, the first essential is an adequate supply 
of the stories themselves. There is, fortu- 
nately, no lack of these. Excellent stories are 
being told constantly by word of mouth, by 
the newspapers and in the magazines, of which 
many have a special humorous department. 
But, unless one has strained himself particu- 
larly to retain memory of the stories he hears 
or reads, and has grown skilled in recalling 
them at will so that they may be available 
whenever desired, he will do well in the be- 
ginning to make a business of remembering 
by means of notes and clippings. It is ad- 
visable for the tyro to employ a scrap book as 
a convenient and comprehensive aid to recol- 
lection. Whenever he chances on a good 
story in his reading, he captures it for his own 
by cutting it out and pasting it in the book. 
He will be astonished by the rapidity with 
which his collection increases in bulk, and 
likewise by the variety offered in the as- 
[35] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

sembled tales. A few weeks of industry will 
supply a humorous repertory of no mean 
extent, and persistance in the practise will 
soon afford a sufficient stock for all possible 
occasions. It may be desirable, also, for 
the sake of convenience to include in the 
scrap book brief written notes of any good 
stories heard. This method has the advan- 
tage of simplicity, since all the material is 
gathered between the covers of a single 
book. 

There should be no attempt at classification 
of the stories. And this for two reasons. 
The first reason is that any effort toward 
arrangement of the various anecdotes would 
seriously complicate the labor involved and 
render it onerous. The second reason is that 
no advantage is derived from such classifica- 
tion. This fact might easily be questioned by 
the inexperienced person, but actually it 
cannot be controverted. As a matter of fact, 
a true classification of stories cannot be made 
without repetitions to the point of absurdity. 
The essential character of any story lies in the 
. [36] 



WIT AND HUMOR 

application of it. Let us demonstrate this 
by an example. 

A kindly old lady visiting the zoo was 
present at the feeding of the lions. She 
regarded the huge cats sympathetically, and 
at last ventured a question to the keeper: 

"Isn't that a very small piece of meat to 
give to the lions?" 

The keeper answered with sincere polite- 
ness — of intention: 

"Well, mum, it may seem like a very small 
piece of meat to you, mum, but it seems like 
a very big piece of meat to the lions, mum." 

Now, here is an anecdote that is sufficiently 
amusing for the scrap book. Moreover, it is 
of a sort that lends itself excellently for pur- 
poses of illustration. How, then, shall we 
classify it? Of course, it may be slipped into 
the L columns with the caption, "Lions." 
Thus indexed, the story will be available 
whenever there is need of one that has to do 
with lions. But — ! The usefulness of this 
particular tale is by no means limited to that 
particular subject. In reality, the character 
[373 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

of the story is determined by its application. 
And this application is not limited to one thing; 
the scope of application is broad, as may be 
seen almost at a glance, and it becomes still 
broader under further scrutiny. Thus, the 
story may be used in connection with the 
subject of kindness, for the old lady's question 
was begotten of sympathy. Or it may be 
used in connection with error, for she had a 
mistaken notion as to what was required by 
the beasts. Or it may be used in connection 
with the subject of politeness, for the keeper 
meant to be very polite indeed. Or it may 
be used in connection with the subject of 
exactness, for the keeper was laboriously 
exact in his reply. Or it may be used in con- 
nection with the subjects of meat, food in 
general, the appetites of animals or of old 
ladies, or the manners of men and women and 
brutes, civic improvements as represented 
by the zoo in the park and so forth, and so 
forth. To index properly such a story would 
require its repetition under many headings. 
In truth, the experienced after-dinner 
[38] 



WIT AND HUMOR 

speaker knows very well that the requirement 
of chief importance is the really good story » 
Once this is secured, it is possible by the 
exercise of a little ingenuity to make it ap- 
plicable to almost any subject. For there 
are many phases of thought in even the 
simplest of tales, and the application depends 
wholly on just which phase may be selected 
by the speaker for emphasis. 

So, in the scrap book, there is no occasion 
for an index. Whenever a story is desired, 
it is easily to be found by glancing over the 
columns. Presently, one will be discovered 
of which the humor at this moment strikes a 
particularly responsive chord. The searcher 
makes this his choice, and studies it in order 
to find just how he can apply it to his pur- 
pose. This task will not prove difficult. In 
fact, the concentration required is likely to 
suggest ideas available for his use, so that the 
time thus employed will be well worth while. 



[393 



Chapter V 
TELLING A STORT 

TO the speaker who would excel in 
after-dinner oratory, it is essential 
that he should be able not only 
to tell a good story, but also to 
tell it exceedingly well. Ability in this di- 
rection is an art by itself. It is true that 
certain persons appear to possess a natural 
knack as raconteurs. Here, as elsewhere, 
natural aptitude plays an important part. 
But one who feels himself lacking in a par- 
ticular talent of this sort may comfort himself 
with the knowledge that in story-telling as 
in other things practise makes perfect. It is 
by no means necessary to be born with the 
knack. It can be cultivated, and a real 
ability developed by persistent exercise. In- 
deed, we may incline to a belief that the 

knack seemingly inherent in some persons is 
[40] 



TELLING A STORY 

actually the result of constant practise. For 
an individual who is fond of story-telling is 
likely to be forever following his bent, and he 
thus assiduously exercises his skill, and in- 
creases it to the utmost possible. On the 
other hand, one who has never made a 
habit of story-telling is, of course, seriously 
hampered when he attempts the unfamiliar 
task. Yet, he may possess an excellent 
equipment mentally and temperamentally. 
Like any machine, however, it cannot operate 
at its best until after a certain amount of use. 
Any person of average ability can readily 
perfect himself in the art of story-telling. 
Intelligent practise is the only requirement. 

The first necessity in relating any story 
is an exact understanding of its point. A 
blunder that we hear almost daily from 
someone is the omission of a detail essential 
to making the point clear. No story can be 
effective when the narrator is compelled to 
tack on at the end an apologetic, "Oh, I for- 
got to say ," or, "I should have men- 
tioned — -," or the like. Not only must 
C4i 1 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

the point of the story as it is made in the 
climax be exactly understood and as exactly 
presented, but every detail of an essential 
kind that precedes must be noted as well 
and given its place in the narration. In the 
story as to the feeding of the animals, for 
example, the point is in the two sentences 
exchanged by the old lady and the keeper. 
The precise wording is vital in this case, be- 
cause of the amusing manner in which the 
two statements are opposed. The single 
feature of the preceding part that is impera- 
tive is the fact that a woman was present 
during the feeding of lions. The scene might 
be shifted to the menagerie of a circus with- 
out affecting the point of the story. But the 
hearers must be told that a woman witnessed 
the lions' meal. In this particular story, that 
one fact is the only significant detail. The 
teller might include other circumstances at 
his pleasure in order to extend the length of 
the story or perhaps to make it more amusing 
or more effective in a special application. 
Thus, he might describe the old lady as a 
[42] 



TELLING A STORY 

country woman who had cooked through 
many years for a family of husky menfolks. 
Her personal experience with their appetites 
would serve to explain her conviction that 
the supply for the lions was stingy. It is 
obvious that such embellishment would not 
affect in any degree the point of the story. 

Where a tyro in after-dinner speaking is 
beset by fear of confusion at the critical 
moment that might induce a clumsy or wrong 
statement of the point of the story, he should 
insure himself against the possibility of such 
a mishap by memorizing that part of the 
anecdote. In the tale of the lady and the 
lions, the two sentences of the dialogue alone 
suffice. With these firmly fixed in memory, 
the speaker knows that he cannot boggle his 
story. Even when the point seems a rather 
complicated affair, scrutiny of the story will 
reveal the actual essentials, which are usually 
few in number and easily remembered. The 
non-essentials, as has been pointed out, may 
be varied as desired. No attempt should be 
made to memorize these, since their precise 
[43] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

form is unimportant comparatively. More- 
over, the necessity for a memorization will 
soon pass, for after a little experience in 
story-telling, it will be found that the point 
itself is the feature by which each tale is 
known in the recollection. 

The practice in the art should be carried 
on industriously until perfect ease of narration 
is acquired. This involves nothing more 
difficult than the telling of stories as frequently 
as possible. When a story has been selected 
as being really laughable, it should be ex- 
amined carefully in the manner indicated 
above, first, in order to impress the point 
itself upon the memory, and, second, to 
determine the significant features that lead 
up to the point. Next, there should be an 
attempt at telling the story to one's self when 
alone, speaking it aloud as if before an audi- 
ence. This practise may be repeated as 
often as convenience permits, until the recital 
is made smoothly and with certainty. But 
in such repetitions care should be taken not 
to fall into a set form of words, except perhaps 
[443 



TELLING A STORY 

in stating the point itself. Variations in the 
manner of phrasing and of the narration gen- 
erally afford capital discipline for facility in 
speaking, which will prove very useful. Fin- 
ally, the practise in this same story should be 
extended to trying its effect on other persons. 
At the outset, it will probably be advisable 
to experiment on a single individual. This 
has the advantage of being less embarrassing, 
and also of offering more opportunity for 
subsequent repetitions. After it has been 
told to one person, it should be told again 
to another, and so on until fluency is at- 
tained. Then, a second story should be 
used similarly; first studied, second told to 
one's self, third to others. And so on with 
yet other tales until narration is developed 
into an art equally agreeable to both the 
speaker and his listeners. 

The aspirant to distinction as an after- 
dinner speaker must not fail to appreciate 
the importance to him of ability as a story- 
teller. He must remember what has been 
said heretofore concerning his duty to enter- 
[45] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

tain the company he addresses. The story 
that really amuses an audience is the very 
best form of entertainment. It is one that 
remains with the hearer, who is able to carry 
away with him the pleasure he has experi- 
enced and even to pass it on to others who were 
not so fortunate as to be present. The 
veriest novice can succeed in his first ap- 
pearance as a speaker if he does nothing more 
than tell a really good story, no matter how 
short. It will be enough if he simply stands 
up and speaks distinctly the few words of the 
story itself, and then sits down. If the 
humor is really good, there will be laughter in 
response, and the novice will have achieved 
a sufficient success in his maiden effort. I 
have seen this done more than once. The 
story being good, there needs no application 
of it, no explanation as to why it is told, or 
what bearing it has on the occasion. The 
single requirement is the telling of a story, 
provocative of laughter. The audience is all 
eagerness to laugh, and welcomes the op- 
portunity, and gives its sincere approval to 
[46] 



TELLING A STORY 

the teller of it. Of course, it is more elegant, 
and is expected of the trained speaker, that, 
there should be a graceful introduction and 
a clever application, but nothing is expected 
of the novice, and, in consequence, the bare 
story alone perhaps astonishes and surely 
gratifies the listeners. The beginner should 
by no means disdain this simple method of 
first facing an audience. It is a vastly better 
route to success than the preparation of an 
elaborate address, which will probably lack 
pithiness and is likely to entangle him in 
difficulties during the delivery. Moreover, 
the modesty displayed in the simple telling 
of a short story reacts in his favor. Criticism 
is disarmed, which might be provoked by a 
more pretentious attempt. 

When the beginner has experimented with 
a brief story related before an audience, and 
finds himself free from any great degree of 
embarrassment when speaking, he may safely 
undertake a short introduction to the story, 
carefully thought out in advance, but not 
memorized as to the wording. And he may 
[47] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

now exercise his ingenuity in explaining very 
briefly in just what way the story may be 
applicable to the occasion for the feast. In 
these earlier efforts, brevity should be the 
rule. When ease and fluency are attained, the 
address may be lengthened slightly, along 
those lines to be indicated in later chapters, 
and made also to include .a number of stories. 
But, as fluency and eloquence increase, con- 
stant restraint must be exercised to guard 
against the vice that so commonly accom- 
panies these virtues — talking too much. 
That brevity is the soul of wit should be 
taken to heart by every after-dinner speaker. 



[48] 



Chapter VI 
PREPARATION OF AN ADDRESS 

IN the preparation of any address designed 
for an after-dinner audience, the first 
concern, of course, must be the selection 
of the particular subject to be treated, 
unless this shall have been already assigned 
to the speaker along with the request for his 
services. The subject, when left to the dis- 
cretion of the orator for his selection, must be 
chosen with care, so that it shall be one in 
harmony with the purposes of the gathering. 
Definite instruction as to this feature cannot 
be given, since the actual circumstances in 
each case must be carefully considered. It 
can only be pointed out that the theme must 
be an appropriate one. Too often, indeed, the 
after-dinner speaker in his address suits his 
own convenience or desires in determining a 
topic, rather than the preference of his audi- 
[49] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

ence. The result of such an error is necessarily 
unpleasant. The listeners remain listless at 
the best, or distinctly annoyed at the worst, 
and their mood reacts to the discrediting of 
the orator. So, at the outset, the speaker 
must see to it that his selection of a subject be 
prudently made, that the theme be one 
certain to enlist the sympathetic attention 
of his hearers, that, in short, it be pleasing 
to them, calculated, to entertain. Some 
further suggestions as to the choosing of the 
subject will be given in a later chapter. It 
is enough for the present to impress on the 
speaker the need of strict propriety to the 
occasion in making the selection. 

When the topic has been selected, the next 
requirement has to do with the form of the 
discourse. It should be divided into three 
parts: the first, the introduction; the second, 
the body; the third, the conclusion. The 
task now is to determine the nature of the 
opening remarks. These should be of a grace- 
ful sort, not too serious. But care should 
be taken to avoid a conspicuous lack of 
[So] 



PREPARATION OF AN ADDRESS 

dignity here, which might seem to reflect 
unfavorably on the importance of the gather- 
ing. The introduction may be merely a few 
words of agreeable compliment to the com- 
pany, or a brief reference to the cause of this 
assembly, or both. Then should follow a 
statement of the subject selected for the 
address, and a simple straightforward explana- 
tion of why it was chosen. The speaker here 
merely recites tersely the reasons that in- 
fluenced him to decide on the topic. Or, in 
this same connection, if the subject was as- 
signed to him instead of being left to his 
discretion, he may summarize what he be- 
lieves to be the reasons that determined the 
choice. All of this preliminary matter, it 
must be remembered, is to be very short. 
There must be no dawdling over the intro- 
duction. There should be only a few ideas, 
and these should be expressed in the most 
straightforward fashion possible. The phras- 
ing should be as smooth as the speaker's 
ability permits, but it should be plain, rather 
than ornate, and there should be no juggling 
[SO 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

of words by which a single idea is repeated 
from two to half-a-dozen times. 

Next, the speaker in his preparation must 
concentrate on the body or principal part of 
the address. Here, again, no specific teach- 
ing is available, since the particular circum- 
stances of the occasion must affect the treat- 
ment vitally. It suffices to say that brevity 
must still remain the chief virtue. The 
theme may properly admit of serious treat- 
ment, or of sentimental, but the speaker must 
exercise a judicious restraint, else he will 
weary his audience. The formal designation 
of this part as the body of the address must 
not be allowed to mislead. The body, in 
fact, may be a very tiny one. It may be 
expedient to limit this portion to only a few 
carefully considered sentences. For it must 
be remembered that the aim of the speaker 
is to entertain, to divert, rather than to in- 
struct or to edify. Therefore, he must con- 
tract to the utmost that part of his speech 
which is out of character with the main pur- 
pose. The serious note, so to speak, must 
[5*3 



PREPARATION OF AN ADDRESS 

be sounded very lightly. But, thus sounded, 
it serves excellently by way of contrast in 
preparation for the amusing sequel. 

This sequel is the story, and should, most 
emphatically, be amusing. Technically, the 
story forms the conclusion of the address, 
following the body. But, if we were to ana- 
lyze the speech according to values, the 
conclusion — the story — would prove to be 
the actual body of the discourse. Here, 
beyond any question, the tail wags the dog, 
and the better the tale, the bigger the wag. 

The story itself should be introduced by 
a few words suggesting the manner in which 
it is applicable to the speaker's topic. But 
care is to be exercised not to reveal or even 
suggest the point of the story in thus intro- 
ducing it. The telling of the story itself 
should be made as effective as possible. The 
narrative must be shorter or longer according 
to the ability of the speaker to make it 
humorous throughout. If he has the art 
to make it truly diverting sentence by sen- 
tence as he proceeds, he may expand a brief 
[53] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

incident into a considerable narrative, and 
make the telling as a whole laughable and 
enjoyable. Indeed, the practise in story- 
telling as previously outlined has for its pur- 
pose the acquirement of such art on the part 
of the speaker. His ideal should be not only 
to tell a good story, but so to relate the story 
as to make its every word effective. The be- 
ginner must limit himself to essentials. But 
with increased proficiency in speaking and 
especially with developed facility in humorous 
expression, the speaker is free to fill out the 
story according to his will. The only condi- 
tion imposed is that all the padding be in 
itself of a sort to entertain and amuse the 
audience. For example, in the tale of the 
Lady and the Lions the novice must limit 
his account to the essentials, in the manner 
already pointed out in reference to this story. 
But the speaker, who is sure of himself and 
his art, is not so restricted. He is at liberty 
to enlarge the narrative to any extent of 
which he is capable, so long as his account 
is of an amusing sort. He may describe the 
[54] 



PREPARATION OF AN ADDRESS 

old lady, what she wears, her way of looking 
at the lions, her life at home, her years of toil 
in catering in the kitchen to the voracity of 
men. Or he may devote himself to a whimsi- 
cal account of the life of a keeper, who finds 
among the wild beasts of the menagerie a 
tranquility denied him at home by wife and 
rolling pin. Or he may make a passing refer- 
ence to the lions themselves, declaring that this 
animal won its proud position as king of the 
beasts by its ability to roar louder than any 
other creature, which is in line with a method 
of attaining greatness much in vogue also 
among mankind. In fine, the speaker may 
indulge at will his wit and humor, if these be 
genuine. 

The outline given above is for the simplest 
form of an address. But the principles gov- 
erning this construction are to be maintained 
in a more complex discourse. Thus, after 
the introduction in the manner already de- 
scribed, the body of the address may be divided 
up into two or more brief portions. In such 
case, each section should be followed by a 
[55] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

conclusion, which is the funny story. The 
effect is, of course, to make the address more 
pretentious and of greater length, because a 
number of stories are told instead of the one. 
Ordinarily, this is the method to be followed. 
It is to be noted, however, that the serious or 
sentimental portions thus separated by the 
stories are to be held to a rigid brevity. The 
speaker must never forget that his highest 
achievement is the diverting of his audience 
by excellence in his array of wit and humor 
before them. With this consciousness al- 
ways maintained, he is able to secure the best 
possible effect. The period that follows the 
laughter provoked by a story is used for a 
crisp statement of the graver sort, and after- 
ward another story is presented. The al- 
ternations serve each to emphasize the effect 
of the other. But the note of mirth must 
be always dominant. 

It seems fitting at this point to offer a word 
of advice to the speaker anent the advantages 
sometimes of bringing his address to an un- 
expectedly abrupt end. This course is ex- 
[56] 



PREPARATION OF AN ADDRESS 

pedient when some particular story is greeted 
with an excessive outburst of merriment on 
the part of the audience. Naturally, when a 
number of tales are included in the speech, 
it is intended to arrange them in the order 
of comparative merit, with the best for the last. 
Of course, none that is without distinctly 
amusing qualities is to be employed, but, even 
so, some are sure to excite more laughter by 
the hearers than do others. Therefore, the 
speaker plans carefully so to place them as to 
make the various narratives increasingly ef- 
fective. Nevertheless, in spite of judicious 
carefulness in this regard, it sometimes hap- 
pens that one of the earlier stories in a series 
arouses most enthusiastic applause and 
laughter. My advice is that when such a 
spontaneous success is achieved, he should 
accept it as a direct providence, and then and 
there sit down. It is altogether improbable 
that any of the subsequent stories would make 
an equal or superior hit. To continue, al- 
most inevitably, would involve an anticlimax, 
which is always injurious to an orator's 
[57] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

prestige. It may, and doubtless will, seem a 
bitter hardship to the speaker to forego utter- 
ance of those other gems of sentiment and 
humor so artfully prepared. But, if he be 
wise, he will forget his pride in these to 
rejoice in the impression he has already 
created on the company. Often, some cir- 
cumstance wholly unknown to the speaker 
may influence the situation and score for 
him an advantage that he could not foresee, j 
Out of my own experience, I am able to 
give a capital illustration of how chance may 
interfere in a speaker's behalf to gain an 
effect beyond his wildest hopes. I was called 
on to deliver an address after a fraternity 
banquet at the university. There had been 
a hotly contested foot-ball match that after- 
noon between the University and a rival in- 
stitution in which the University won. I 
was aware of this fact, of course, but as the 
sequel will show I was by no means aware of 
certain vital facts relating to the victory. 
I had perhaps six or eight anedcotes grouped 
mentally when I rose to speak, with the 
LS8] 



PREPARATION OF AN ADDRESS 

necessary plausible excuses for stringing them 
together. Also, the arrangement of the stories 
had been carefully considered by me, so that 
each in turn should appear more meritorious 
than its predecessor. 

: There was applause enough to satisfy me 
for the first anecdote and for the second. I 
then related the third. It had to do with a 
christening. On the way to the church, the 
milk escaped from the baby's bottle, and 
made a frightful mess of the christening robe. 
The mother was in despair but there was 
no time to remedy the calamity. It was 
with shamed embarrassment that she placed 
her offspring in the arms of the young clergy- 
man who officiated at the font. As a matter 
of fact, the curate had troubles of his own that 
rendered him almost, if not quite oblivious 
to the bedraggled condition of the infant. 
It was his first baptismal service, and it was 
all very trying to his piety, especially the 
holding of the babe securely within the clutch 
of one arm and hand as required by the 
ritual in order that the other hand might be 
[59] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

free for dipping and sprinkling the water. 
He stumbled somehow through the pre- 
liminary portion of the service. Then, as 
he clutched the child fiercely with the one 
arm, he whispered to the mother: 

"What name?" 

She, good soul, was in an agony of dis- 
comfort over the baby's disreputable condi- 
tion. Since that occupied her thoughts to 
the exclusion of all else, she failed utterly to 
understand the whisper, and supposed that 
the clergyman was protesting against the de- 
plorable untidiness of her progeny. She hur- 
ried to whisper an excuse — an explanation : 

"Nozzle come offf Nozzle come off!" 

"What?" demanded the puzzled curate. 

And again the distracted mother whispered 
desperately: 

"Nozzle come off! Nozzle come off!" 

There was no time for further investigation. 
So as he dipped his fingers into the water, he 
spoke aloud with a sonorous fervor that filled 
all the place, and eke astonished all the con- 
gregation : 

[6o] 



PREPARATION OF AN ADDRESS 

"Nozzlecomeoff Snyder, 1 baptize thee in 
the name of the Father and of the Son and 
of the Holy Ghost." 

There was a riot. I had thought on the 
instant, pandemonium broke loose. The air 
was filled with shouts and cheers. Through 
the din, I could make out many voices crying: 
"Nozzlecome off Snyder!" I sat down. I did 
not understand just what had happened, but 
whatever it was it had happened, and this was 
no time for further speechmaking. The boys 
were on their feet now, weaving and milling 
about the room. The older alumni were 
shaking with the laughter in their chairs and 
roaring approval. The yelling became rhyth- 
mic, and the burden of it was, "Nozzlecomeoff 
Snyder!" . . . My own name sounded with 
cheers. But the great paean was, "Nozzle- 
comeoff Snyder!" 

I had made a hit — a stupendous hit. 

There was not a doubt of it. The ending 

of my speech, to me so utterly unexpected, 

was a most magnificent triumph. As to the 

why of it, I had not the faintest idea. Then, 
[61] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

presently, I saw a husky lad borne aloft on 
the shoulders of his fellows, who danced in 
serpentine to the measure of a weird chant: 
"Nozzlecomeoff Snyder! Nozzlecomeoff 
Snyder!" 

Little by little, understanding dawned on 
my bemused wits. Pure chance had thus 
glorified my effort to entertain. Perhaps I 
sighed secretly over those excellent stories 
that would remain untold. But I thanked 
my lucky stars for the accident that had led 
me to make Snyder the family name of the 
mussed-up infant. And, though 1 had not 
known the fact, it was Snyder who, that 
afternoon by a tremendous run, had won the 
match for the university — Snyder, of our 
fraternity, now grinning sheepishly at me 
from his position on the shoulders of his 
fellows. . . . And the absurd nickname stuck. 
To his intimates, he is still Nozzlecomeoff 
Snyder to-day. 



C62] 



Chapter VII 
MENTAL MEMORANDA 

IT is important to the speaker that he 
should be free from any possibility of 
forgetting the various heads for his dis- 
course, whether this be long or short. 
But he should not permit himself any depend- 
ence on written notes during the time of his 
appearance before an audience. He may 
make use of pencil and paper at will in the 
preparation of his remarks, but his reliance 
on the written word must cease when the task 
of preparation is ended. It is all very well 
for a clergyman to have recourse to written 
notes while speaking from the pulpit, or even 
to read his entire sermon, since such evidence 
of serious preparation for the occasion is 
befitting the gravity of time and place. It 
is quite otherwise with the speaker whose 
C63 ] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

appearance follows the hour of feasting. Here, 
the atmosphere is one of good-will and jollity, 
and any sign of actual effort on the speaker's 
part stands out conspicuously in opposition 
to the prevailing spirit of the gathering. , The 
moment that written memoranda are con- 
sulted, the act operates to antagonize the 
seeming spontaneity that should characterize 
the undertaking of the speaker. No matter 
how elaborate may have been the study 
privately given by him in advance to the 
elaboration of his remarks, to the contriving 
of witty sallies and humorous illustrations, 
there must be no trace of this serious work in 
the sprightliness of the finished product. 
The use of notes presents undeniable proofs 
of a laborious getting ready for the task, and 
completely dispels the pleasing illusion on the 
part of the audience as to the extemporaneous 
character of the speaker's eloquence. 

As a matter of fact, mental notes that are 

thoroughly dependable are readily made. 

With a little practise, the employment of 

them becomes more convenient and simpler 

[64] 



MENTAL MEMORANDA 

than reliance on the written memoranda. 
The method is, briefly, as follows: 

It is a law of the mind in the operation of 
memory that the concrete is preferred to the 
abstract. There is vagueness in abstract 
ideas, which renders them difficult to fix and 
distinguish in the recollection; while the 
concrete object is something exact, of which 
the mental impression is sharply outlined. 
Ordinarily, the chief agent in memory is 
visualization. The mind fashions a picture, 
and this picture of the thing to be remembered 
is stored away, to be reproduced as demanded 
by recollection. The abstract idea cannot, 
of course, be pictured in the mind, and for 
that reason the memory of abstractions is 
difficult; but the escape from a dilemma here 
is easy enough. It is necessary only to sub- 
stitute something concrete that shall serve as 
the representative of any abstraction it is 
required to recall at will. This device is well 
adapted to fulfill the requirements of the 
speaker in memorizing the various ideas of 
an address. There is always something that 
C65 ] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

will suffice as a material symbol of an imma- 
terial idea. Something that when recalled 
will inevitably bring with it ample suggestion 
of the desired thought. Thus, a mental 
picture of the Capitol at Washington would 
serve as a concrete memory to recall the 
subject of the government of the United 
States. The Capitol building is a definite 
thing, and as such capable of being pictured 
by the brain. The Government of the United 
States, on the other hand, is an abstract idea, 
of which no picture can be formed in the 
mind. But the association of ideas operates 
under another law of memory, so that in such 
an instance the concrete object, which is so 
intimately associated with the idea, becomes 
an efficient symbol of that idea, and its 
presence in the memory carries with it 
memory also of the abstraction. If the 
speaker has as one of the heads in his address 
the Government of the United States, the 
mental picture of the Capitol is an ample 
guarantee for recollection of the subject. 

In the formation of the mental pictures 

[66] 



MENTAL MEMORANDA 

necessary in this method, care must be taken 
to concentrate on each one. An effort must 
be made to shut everything else out of con- 
sciousness for a few moments, while the at- 
tention is wholly fixed on the particular con- 
crete object to be remembered. The greater 
the concentration, the stronger the memory. 
Such concentration is, indeed, the chief factor 
in memory. It may be forced by outward 
circumstances, as where some scene of fright- 
ful peril in a person's experience is indelibly 
engraved in remembrance. Or the concen- 
tration may come from joyous interest, and 
establish a recollection almost equally per- 
manent. But, too, the concentration should 
be subject to the control of the will, and it is 
so uniformly in the person of good memory. 
Any speaker who finds his ability to remember 
too tricky for dependence, may be sure that 
the fault lies in a lack of concentration. This 
lack must be corrected. The task is not 
too difficult, and the rewards make the labor 
involved well worth while. 

In the use of the concrete symbols, their 
C67] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

orderly arrangement in the memory is secured 
by subjecting them to the mental law con- 
cerning the association of ideas. Let us sup- 
pose, for example, that a speaker at a civic 
banquet wishes to refer to the thriving con- 
dition of the schools, the churches, the in- 
dustries, and to the patriotic response of the 
city under the demands of war, along with a 
humorous story for the finish. He must 
select a concrete object as the symbol for 
each idea. Obviously, a school house with 
the children issuing gives a sufficient picture 
to suggest the topic of the schools, and simi- 
larly, a church and a mill properly represent 
the churches and the industries. The pa- 
triotic zeal of the town may be symbolized 
by a soldier in uniform. It should be noted 
that the various pictures are to be made as 
real as possible in the mental impression. It is 
here that concentration is especially import- 
ant in order to obtain an exact effect. Finally, 
there must be the choosing of a concrete sym- 
bol that shall inevitably bring to mind the 
amusing anecdote. By way of example, let 
[68] 



MENTAL MEMORANDA 

us imagine that the speaker concludes his 
tribute to the city by a word of appreciation 
or regret over the presence or absence, as the 
case may be, of gondolas on the artificial 
water in the park. His memory of this point 
will be adequately supplied by the mental 
picture of a gondola. When he reaches this 
place in his speech, he will by some such refer- 
ence introduce his story told good-naturedly 
at the expense of the local board of aldermen, 
somewhat after this style : 

When the subject of park improvements 
was debated, Alderman Meeks urged the 
purchase of a dozen gondolas to be placed 
in the lake. Alderman Rafferty spoke in 
hearty support of the project, but suggested 
an amendment, in the interests of economy. 

"For why," he concluded earnestly, "should 
we be at the expinse of buyin' an intire dozen 
of gondolas? Would it not be betther, now 
Oi ax ye, to buy a pair, a male an' a female, 
an' to let nature take its coorse?" 

For the purposes of memorization in this 
instance, the speaker now has five concrete 
[69] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

objects. It next becomes necessary for him 
to establish a memory of these in their order. 
It is now that he is to employ the association 
of ideas in connection with the mental pic- 
turing. The first topic is the schools, which 
is represented by the photograph in the brain 
of a schoolhouse with the children issuing from 
it. The next topic is that of the churches for 
which a church building stands as the symbol. 
These two pictures are to be brought together. 
With the eyes shut, there must be concentra- 
tion on the schoolhouse scene and at the same 
time on a church standing at the right side 
of the school. These two buildings in con- 
junction must be seen distinctly. It will be 
found that afterward recollection of the school 
will bring with it recollection of the church. 
The appearance of either picture in the mind 
will involve the appearance beside it of the 
other. When the first two symbols have 
been thus paired, the symbols for the second 
and third topics of the speech must be simi- 
larly presented in association within the mind. 
The new picture shows nothing of the school, 
[70] 



MENTAL MEMORANDA 

but the church is again present and on its 
right in the mental picture stands the mill, 
which typifies the industries of the town. 
Next, this mill and the soldier in uniform are 
joined as subjects for the brain's concentra- 
tion. The last pair includes the soldier and 
the gondola. If such pairing of the symbols 
and concentration on the successive pairs is 
properly done, there can be no failure of the 
memory. Instantly, at thought of the school- 
house, the church also appears. As the school 
is shut from the picture, the mill appears to 
the right of the church. In like fashion, the 
soldier tags after the mill. When the mill 
vanishes, the gondola comes to accompany the 
man in uniform. 

This system of arranging the symbols in 
order may be employed for any number of 
topics. It is necessary only first to determine 
the choice of a concrete object that shall 
clearly suggest the topic, and then, second, to 
concentrate on the paired symbols, in the 
manner indicated above, whatever may be 
their number. 

C7i] 



Chapter VIII 
AN HISTORICAL ADDRESS 

LET us, for the purpose of illustrating 
further the principles already ex- 
plained, consider the case of a 
speaker who has been designated 
to deliver an address at a banquet commem- 
orating an important historical event. Assume 
that the occasion is a celebration of Colum- 
bus Day, and that to the speaker has been 
assigned a particular subject, for example, 
"Our Country." He is now to prepare an 
outline of his address. 

In the first place, the speaker is to hold 
firmly in mind that his duty is to entertain, 
rather than to parade learning, to teach, or 
otherwise to edify his hearers. He may 
be sure, also, that other speakers of the 
evening will provide more than a sufficiency 
of serious speeches with depressing effect. He 
[72] 






AN HISTORICAL ADDRESS 

himself will not be guilty of the like fault. 
But he is confronted with a subject of high 
dignity, one naturally suggesting a treatment 
earnest and profound, a display of the noblest 
eloquence. Nevertheless, the speaker must 
deny the lure of this lofty theme, and by an 
effort of ingenuity so contrived that it shall 
serve as a pretext for the amusing discourse 
he meditates. The result of such resolve 
might be something like the following: 

After addressing the presiding officer by 
his title for the occasion, whatever it may be, 
and the company, the speaker may proceed: 

"I had prepared some weighty reflections 
on 'Our Country' — without meaning any 
reflections on our country. But most of the 
things I had meant to say have already been 
said by the speakers before me, or soon will 
be by the others to follow, I suspect. I have, 
however, one quite important thought left to 
me, which I shall now mention. It has to do 
with the very interesting fact that eggs is, or 
maybe are, eggs. Yet, what a difference! 
For, as everybody knows, eggs are either good 
[73] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

or bad. On rare occasions, they are better; 
usually, they are worse. But, while this 
truth is familiar to all, most persons fail to 
appreciate eggs in their higher aspects. It is 
my purpose to show how eggs may be signifi- 
cant historically. I propose to offer an egg 
as a symbol to indicate the greatness of our 
country in its humor. Its value thus is em- 
phasized by contrast with the egg of Colum- 
bus. Columbus, when no other could balance 
the egg on its small end, achieved success by 
smashing the shell into a flat base. At once, 
the egg became famous. It appears through- 
out subsequent history as an illustration of 
smashing efficiency. I desire to offer as a 
rival for its fame another egg, an American 
egg 9 a humorous egg. There was nothing 
funny about Columbus and his egg y but Bill 
Nye's egg was the very dickens. 

"First of all, we must note the fact that 
Nye's egg wasn't really an egg: it was his 
head. Everybody knows that the great 
humorist was bald. Not only so, he was bald 
as an egg. People told him so, and, anyhow, 
[74] 



AN HISTORICAL ADDRESS 

he knew it himself. The baldness on the 
outside of his head preyed on the inside of it, 
and to be rid of that trouble he concocted a 
story, probably on the theory that open con- 
fession soothes grief. The tale was to this 
effect: 

"Once, in the midst of an African desert, 
Bill Nye was captured by horrible savages. 
They were not Cannibals, or, if so, they were 
finicky about bald humorist, who probably 
would make tough eating. Anyhow, they 
did not wound or slay their victim: they 
merely buried him in the sand to the neck, 
and left him alone with his thoughts. 

"For two days, that hapless bald pate 
cooked under the torrid rays of the African 
sun. The contents became addled which 
perhaps was just as well in view of the event 
that next occurred. 

"A female ostrich came out of the horizon, 
and since there was nothing else to see she 
at once espied the glistening cranium showing 
above the sand. She galloped toward it joy- 
ously, thrilled by a maternal instinct. 'My 
[753 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

long-lost egg!' she clucked. She sprinted, 
she arrived, she squatted — in fact, she set 
herself to set. The man was powerless to 
resist the mistaken efforts of the motherly 
creature. His position was humiliating, but 
the shade was welcome. 

"I am not just certain concerning the 
period of incubation for ostrich eggs. But, 
whatever that period may be, we may believe 
that this faithful bird observed it scrupulously. 
At due intervals, under the impulse of that 
wonderful force called instinct, she stood up 
and clawed industriously at the bald head, 
to insure an even development of the chick. 
When, at last, the time limit was reached, the 
ostrich, with motherly eagerness, scratched 
and pecked at the hairless skull in a manner 
truly unpleasant. But Nye concentrated all 
his remaining energies in a desperate resist- 
ance, and refused to hatch. 

"The humorist concluded the narrative 
abruptly by declaring: 

"'And from that day to this I have never 
dared to look a hen in the face !' ' 



AN HISTORICAL ADDRESS 

Now, undeniably, this brief form of address 
contains nothing save the veriest nonsense. 
But such nonsense, uttered with a certain 
whimsicality of manner, is well calculated to 
afford highly appreciated relief to an audience 
a trifle wearied by more learned and weightier 
discourses. The effect will be that the speaker 
is remembered with pleasure as one who con- 
tributed genuine entertainment to the occa- 
sion. In fine, the effect will be to enhance 
the speaker's reputation in the way he most 
desires, as that of one who has the ability to 
speak lightly, gracefully and amusingly on 
any subject, before any gathering. 



l77l 



Chapter IX 
ILLUSTRATIVE ANECDOTES 

IT has already been made sufficiently clear 
that the chief aim of the after-dinner 
speaker should be to entertain the com- 
pany, and that such entertainment should 
find its main reliance in the wit and humor of 
the address. This fact must never be lost 
sight of. The speaker is constantly in danger 
of being too serious in his remarks. Often, 
the occasion itself is such as to encourage the 
parade of heavy utterances by the orator. 
This is especially the case on anniversaries, or 
whenever an historical interest is attached to 
the occasion. The tendency then is to dis- 
course at length on the particular event com- 
memorated, to discuss the significance of it, 
and to draw from it such lessons as it may 
offer. But this tendency should be resisted 
[78] 



ILLUSTRATIVE ANECDOTES 

by the speaker who desires to attain a reputa- 
tion for particular ability in the art of after- 
dinner oratory. There are always those who 
exploit the serious phases of any occasion, 
and indeed they are so numerous as often to 
make tedious the gatherings at which they are 
present. In consequence, the speaker in 
lighter vein readily achieves a very real dis- 
tinction, an honorable fame for the unfailing 
merit of his addresses. It is recommended, 
therefore, that the humorous contents of the 
speech be the deep concern always in its 
preparation. This by no means forbids the 
most graceful eloquence, or the presentation 
of the most brilliant thoughts of the graver 
sort, but it insists that the entertaining quality 
which provokes smiles and laughter be the 
principal feature in every instance. Thus, 
on an anniversary, the speaker may properly 
briefly sketch the event commemorated, and 
make clear some aspect of its meaning. When 
a person is the principal speaker, it becomes 
fitting that he should give a larger attention 
to this serious portion of the speech. Dis- 
[79] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

cretion in this regard must be employed, ac- 
cording to the particular circumstances. Even 
so, however, the wit and humor are by no 
means to be neglected. Yet, the after-dinner 
speech, it must be remembered, is in a class 
by itself. In considering it, we should not be 
led astray by confounding it with the graver 
forms of oratory. Sometimes, it is true, the 
two varieties of speech-making must be inter- 
mingled in a single address as in the case to 
which reference has just been made. Never- 
theless, the after-dinner speaker must reso- 
lutely resist the temptation to become ora- 
torical in the heavier sense of the word. Nor 
must he belittle the honor to be attained in 
his own field. He can be entertaining with 
no loss of dignity, and by his skill he may win 
an enviable reputation, of which any man 
might well be proud. Moreover, he may find 
a very real happiness in the consciousness 
that his efforts give happiness to others. To 
please and divert a body of hearers and to send 
them away with enduring memories of en- 
joyment is surely no ignoble task. It con- 
[80] 



ILLUSTRATIVE ANECDOTES 

trasts to great advantage against the weariness 
engendered by many a graver orator. 

Always, the preparation by the speaker 
must devise some ingenious expedient for the 
introduction of the story or stories. He must 
contrive to emphasize an aspect of his subject 
that may be logically related to the anecdote. 
This matter of the application is, in fact, his 
justification for the entertaining narrative. It 
requires, sometimes, careful consideration to 
discover in just what manner a preferred story 
may be related to a certain subject, with 
which it has no apparent connection. But 
practise in this regard will develop speedily a 
fair degree of facility, and this, in turn, will 
grow into a resourcefulness by which the 
speaker becomes competent to take any good 
story and adapt it to the exigencies of any 
subject as required. Thus, the use of the 
name Snyder made the anecdote of a christen- 
ing hilariously applicable to the circumstances 
of a football triumph, though pure chance here 
did the work of adaptation. 

Of course, there are often stories that of 
[8i] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

themselves are suitable especially to certain 
occasions, so that no ingenuity is required in 
establishing their appropriateness. The fol- 
lowing are examples of anecdotes in which the 
applicability is obvious. 

The first illustration has to do with a speech 
made after a Christmas Dinner. It should 
be noted here that the hour following the feast 
is not the time for the expression of lofty 
thoughts. It may be assumed that the re- 
ligious character of the season has been given 
due attention elsewhere. It is now the period 
for genial social enjoyment, and only a very 
few words, if any, should be spoken in serious 
mood. But, by way of introducing a par- 
ticularly appropriate story, short reference 
may be made to the significance of the giving 
of gifts in celebrating this great feast day of 
the church and to the kindly myth of Santa 
Claus. This serves directly to justify the 
illustrative story, which may be indicated as 
follows, although it should be elaborated in 
the telling according to the ability of the 
speaker to make it amusing throughout: 

[82] 



ILLUSTRATIVE ANECDOTES 

A little boy returned home with a black 
eye. In response to the solicitous questioning 
of his mother, he admitted that he had had 
a fight with one of his fellows, whom he had 
thrashed. He explained that the disagree- 
ment had had its origin in the fact that the 
other boy denied the existence of Santa 
Claus. 

The mother reflected that perhaps her son 
had now reached an age when one of the 
tender illusions of childhood must speedily 
be shattered rudely by others, if not gently 
by herself. So, she took the little fellow on 
her lap, and revealed to him the fact that the 
good old saint was indeed no more than a 
creation of kindly fancy. The boy listened in 
silence, and it was still without a word of 
comment that he got down from his mother's 
lap, and went to the door. But, in the door- 
way, he turned with a question: 

"Say, ma! have you been foolin' me all this 
time about the devil, too?" 

Similarly, on Washington's Birthday any 
story that has to do with lying is applicable 
[83] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

by reason of George's record for truth telling 
in the episode of the cherry tree. Indeed, 
always, applicability is obvious concerning 
opposites, just as here there is the relationship 
between lying and truth telling. But, as 
will be found on reading, this story from its 
point is particularly pertinent. 

One of the visitors to a home for colored 
orphan children observed one of the pickan- 
ninies neatly trussed to a bed-post. Some- 
what indignant at the form of punishment, 
she inquired of an attendant concerning the 
offense committed by the culprit. 

"He's been lyin', ma'am," was the ex- 
planation. "He's always a-lyin'. He shore 
is the very worstest, lyin'est nigger I ever did 
see." 

"What's his name?" the visitor demanded. 

And the attendant answered : 

"George Washington, ma'am." 

It is not advantageous to multiply examples 

in regard to stories where the point is plainly 

related to the subject matter of the address. 

But illustrations of the manner in which a 

[8 4 ] 



ILLUSTRATIVE ANECDOTES 

story may be related to a subject with which, 
at first glance, it has apparently nothing to 
do, are well worth further attention of the 
part of the speaker, since they will serve in 
some measure to stimulate his own ingenuity. 
Such illustrations by means of various stories 
and of suggestions as to their possible applica- 
tion will be found in the next chapter. 



[8 5 ] 



Chapter X 
THE APPLICATION OF STORIES 

WHILE a perfectly satisfactory 
effect may be secured by the 
employment of a story in 
which the point quite ob- 
viously applies to the subject matter of the 
address, it is a fact that oftentimes a special 
hit may be scored through the ingenious 
adaptation of an anecdote to some matter 
with which, seemingly at first, it is totally 
unrelated. The wise speaker selects a story, 
one that in itself is the very best possible. 
He bases his choice solely on the merit of the 
tale as one sure to delight his audience. He 
is then confronted with the further task of 
reconciling the story to his subject matter. 
In doing this, he must discover some method 
by which the narrative may be made logically 

appropriate in illustration of his thought. 

[86] 



THE APPLICATION OF STORIES 

And just here comes a curious and gratifying 
reward of labor. For oftentimes, even usu- 
ally, in questing for a rational excuse in the 
joining of tale and theme, his thoughts will 
be stirred to an activity out of which issue 
ideas interesting and valuable. It is in this 
wise that he may gain much material of a 
cleverly whimsical sort, of which otherwise 
he would never have thought. The seeking 
to justify a purely artificial relation begets 
products that are very frequently astonishing 
and amusing. Humor itself is many times 
merely a form of the grotesque. The juxta- 
position of things not naturally thus asso- 
ciated in the mind is often the cause of 
laughter. For that matter, the orderly and 
logical mind is not likely to display great 
humorous ability. A lack of soundness in 
the mental processes may manifest in mad- 
ness, or in — humor of the grotesque sort. 
For example, the ordinary man of sound mind 
does not naturally think of practising a thing 
and of not practising it in a single action. 
The contradiction is so opposed to good sense 
C8 7 ] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

that the thought does not even enter his mind. 
But not so of the humorist. The absurd, the 
impossible, is spontaneous in his brain. Mark 
Twain wrote in an autograph album: " Never 
tell a lie." At the end of the sentence, he 
placed a star. At the bottom of the page, 
the star was repeated for a foot-note, which 
read : " Except for practise." Here is a crazy 
contradiction that is very laughable. But a 
really logical brain could never conceive the 
like. Even more extravagant was the decla- 
ration of a mad gentleman of Verona. This 
lunatic was harmless, and was permitted to 
wander at will. On one occasion, he paid a 
visit to a resident of the city, to whom he 
explained that he was the angel Michael. A 
year later, he called at the same house a 
second time. He now explained to his host 
that he was the angel Gabriel. The host 
ventured a remonstrance: 

"But you told me last year that you were 
the angel Michael, and now you say that you 
are the angel Gabriel. How do you explain 

that? You can't be both of them!" 

[88] 



THE APPLICATION OF STORIES 

"Oh, yes, I am," the madman cheerfully 
replied, without the slightest trace of hesita- 
tion. "But by different mothers." 

As he experiments with the establishment 
of artificial relation between tale and text, 
the speaker will constantly find ideas of a 
more or less absurd or whimsical character 
presented for his consideration, and out of the 
mass he will be able to avail himself of thoughts 
that will help to establish his reputation for 
cleverness. 

Let us, then, consider somewhat carefully 
a few stories of which the natural application 
is obvious, with a view of discovering other 
ways in which its significance may be made 
available. 

There is an amusing story of an Irishman 
and a ghost. Pat was making his way through 
a wood at night, when he suddenly felt a draft 
of cold air, and, on looking up, saw before 
him a ghost. The spectre showed every evi- 
dence of amiability, for he was nodding and 
grinning in the most pleasant and sociable 
manner imaginable. The man, however, re- 
[89] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

fused to be bamboozled by any overtures from 
a source so ghastly. He turned and fled 
down the path at top speed. He went rushing 
onward until his breath came only in stran- 
gling gasps. Yet, a horrified glance over his 
shoulder showed the ghost floating easily 
alongside, still nodding and grinning with an 
air of dreadful jollity. At last, Pat, utterly 
spent, dropped on a log by the path, and sat 
sweating and panting, in a tremor of mingled 
fatigue and terror. And presently he looked 
up, to see the ghost sitting on the other 
end of the log. The uncanny apparition con- 
tinued bobbing its gruesome head and mow- 
ing with the utmost good nature. And now 
words issued from the phantom, a sibilant 
whisper that echoed coldly in the Irishman's 
heart. 

"That was a fine run we had," said the 
ghost. 

"Yis, sorr," Patagreed, in a trembling voice. 
"And as soon as I catch me brith, we'll have 
another!" 

Now, here is a story that is obviously con- 
[90] 



THE APPLICATION OF STORIES 

cerning a ghost, and it might be appropriately 
told by a frivolous speaker at a banquet of 
the Society for Physical Research, if that 
grave body of inquisitors ever indulges in such 
a material pastime as feasting. But such 
obvious applicability of the story is by no 
means the limit of its possible usefulness. 
On the contrary, its very obviousness in this 
direction detracts somewhat from its merit. 
It becomes more effective when applied to a 
subject not so directly implied by the situa- 
tion. It might be used advantageously to 
illustrate the quality of persistence, or the 
courage for repeated effort in the face of trial 
and failure. So, too, it might serve to em- 
phasize moral bravery as opposed to physical 
cowardice. But it would give an excellent 
flavor if introduced in a talk on forestry. 
The speaker might then air his learning by 
some remarks as to religious antiquities, such 
as the tree-worship of ancient races and the 
classical spirits of the wood, dryad and 
hamadryad and their various relatives and 
so lead to the weird spell exercised by sylvan 
[91] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

shades. He might cite the fact that a boy 
whistles to keep his spirits up when passing 
a graveyard at night or when going through 
the woods, and for the same reason in each 
case. At this point, the speaker will have suffi- 
ciently established a relation between the 
forest and ghosts, and his story will seem 
entirely appropriate. 

The like method is to be employed in every 
case. 

A New England couple celebrated their 
diamond wedding. They were not only very 
old; they were also very healthy. To one 
of the guests at the celebration who was ex- 
claiming over the old lady's rosy cheeks and 
brisk movements the ancient bride declared 
proudly : 

"Amos and me are mighty peart. There 
ain't nothin' much ever troubled Amos, 
'cept a spell of rheumatiz last winter. And 
I ain't had a sick day for more'n fifty years — 
'cept one day arter Amos done dosin' with 
what the Doctor give him, an' I took what 
was left in the bottle, to save it." 
[92] 



THE APPLICATION OF STORIES 

The obvious application of this story is to 
the subject of thrift, since the old woman 
has no earthly need of medicine, but feels it 
her duty to avoid any waste of something 
bought and paid for. Probably she felt a 
certain satisfaction even in being sick, since 
thus she got something for her money. But 
the application of the story might be extended 
to subjects wholly unrelated with thrift. It 
could be used to illustrate the popular fond- 
ness for patent medicines. It would entertain 
at a dinner of the Druggists Association. It 
equally would amuse the medical fraternity. 
Moreover, by emphasizing various phases of 
the story, it might be told with effect on 
almost any occasion. A few words as to the 
preciousness of diamonds and the rarity of 
diamond jubilees would provide an adequate 
introduction at a dinner of the Jewellers' 
Society. Of course, it could easily be adapted 
to a wedding feast or any wedding anniversary. 

Another story of thrift as the ruling passion 
even in the face of death may be cited. 

A New England wife, who had attained 
[93] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

local celebrity for the immaculateness of her 
housekeeping regarded her husband with stern 
disapproval. The old man was abed and 
suffering acutely. The physican had an- 
nounced that the illness must terminate fatally. 
The man rolled and tossed in a vain effort to 
find relief from pain. It was this activity 
on his part that excited the wife's disapproba- 
tion. She addressed him presently in a 
voice of cold authority: 

"John Henry, you needn't kick and squirm 
so, an' wear them best sheets out, even if you 
bea-dyin'!" 

Here, again, no limitation as to the possible 
usefulness of the story is imposed by its direct 
applicability. By a necessary touch here or 
there in the narrative, it may be made suitable 
to a great number of occasions. It could 
illustrate the sternness of the Puritan char- 
acter, and be given appropriately after a 
Plymouth Rock dinner. Or it could be 
quoted to drygoods dealers. It might even 
be applied in illustration of any ruling passion, 
or stern adherence to duty at the cost of 
[94] 



THE APPLICATION OF STORIES 

tenderness in the very face of death. It 
might well rejoice a bachelor's club or a house- 
keeper's league. Probably, it would be relished 
by the Amalgamated Undertakers. And so, 
and so on. The possibilities are by no menas 
exhausted. 

The stories given above are short, yet the 
manner in which their application may be 
varied has been clearly shown. The capacity 
for adaptation is increased in longer narratives, 
since these afford an opportunity to include 
any desired reference in the setting by which 
it may be made harmonious to the needs of 
the occasion. 

A certain gentleman was one of a party of 
visitors to a lunatic asylum. He was much 
impressed by many features of the institution, 
but particularly by the seeming sanity ex- 
hibited by most of the inmates. One patient 
especially attracted his favorable regard. In 
a conversation of some length, the unfortunate 
man showed an intelligence much above the 
average, and there was nothing in speech or 
manner to suggest a mind deranged. The 
[953 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

visitor and the maniac walked about the 
building together, and at last the inmate 
became confidential in response to the sym- 
pathetic attention of his listener. Explained 
that the avarice of relatives had been the 
actual cause of his incarceration in this insti- 
tution for the insane. He had detected the 
plot against him, and in order to oppose it 
he had secretly converted a large amount of 
securities into banknotes and gold, with the 
idea of thus possessing funds in case his 
property should be tied up by legal proceedings 
against him. Secretly, at dead of night, he 
buried this sum of money in a secluded spot 
known only to himself. Then, unfortunately, 
the unexpectedly swift action of his enemies 
brought his plans of defense to naught. He 
was seized and shut up in the lunatic asylum, 
and as yet he had been unable to make use 
of the money hidden by him. He now pro- 
posed to the visitor that the latter should aid 
him in his extremity. He offered to give full 
directions for finding the buried treasure, with 
a further offer of one-half the amount as a 
[96] 



THE APPLICATION OF STORIES 

gift, provided the other half should be devoted 
to obtaining his release from confinement. 

The visitor was skeptical as to the truth of 
the story, but he maintained an air of credulity 
to avoid any danger of exciting the lunatic 
unduly. He listened sympathetically, and 
finally, in response to the other's urging, agreed 
to act in his behalf. He accepted the proffered 
gift of half the money, and solemnly promised 
to employ the remainder toward securing the 
freedom of its owner. The lunatic then gave 
explicit instructions for finding the spot where 
the money had been buried. The visitor 
vowed to lose no time in retrieving the treasure 
and in applying it to the proposed project. 

As the two men walked on together, the 
crazed one was insistent that the other should 
not forget his promise, and the visitor re- 
iterated his assurances that he would not 
fail. 

Presently, the party of guests assembled 

on the veranda, about to take their departure. 

The man who had promised to seek the hidden 

funds was standing at the head of the high 

[973 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

steps leading to the driveway, when the 
lunatic again approached, sidling up to him 
stealthily, in a manner at once crafty and 
suspicious. 

"You won't forget?" he whispered threat- 
eningly. 

"No, no, certainly not," the visitor declared 
hastily, with nervous emphasis. 
I "You're sure? You won't forget?" the 
crazy man demanded again. 

"I won't forget," was the earnest reply 
soothingly spoken. 

The visitor turned to descend the steps. 
On the instant, he received a kick that sent 
him tumbling to sprawl on the gravel of the 
driveway. 

"What on earth did you do that for?" he 
cried out wrathfully as he scrambled to his 
feet. 

The maniac grinned down in high glee from 
his place at the head of the steps. 

"That," he exclaimed crisply, "is in case 
you forget!" 

In an instance such as this, the narrative 
L98] 



THE APPLICATION OF STORIES 

is of a sort to permit elaboration of details to 
any desired extent. Such elaboration may 
be so directed as to make the story applicable 
to a chosen theme, whatever that theme may 
be. The very fact that the tale has no 
distinctively obvious quality as did the anec- 
dotes of thrift given above, affords it a 
character of an elastic sort, bendable as 
desired. Thus it might be twisted to apply 
as an illustration to the subject of etiquette, 
for it is a rule of propriety in visiting an 
insane asylum to humor the patients, never 
to antagonize them. But it illustrates also 
the necessity for discretion, even of caution, 
in our acts of politeness or kindness, lest we 
receive a kick. And the story is easily 
related to such subjects as state institutions 
in general, the duties of official visitors, the 
vagaries of crazed persons, the lure of buried 
treasure, the laws concerning the confinement 
of the mentally diseased. By making the 
visitor really believe the lunatic's yarn, the 
way is opened to various other applications, 
concerning such matters as credulousness, 
[99] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

avarice, rewards and punishments, high hopes 
and bitter disillusion. Other adaptations 
might be effected by changes in the setting of 
the narrative. By locating the asylum in a 
particular place, it becomes suited to any 
gathering in the region adjacent. By dis- 
tinguishing the visitor as a plumber or a 
master mason, a relationship is established 
that fits it for the assembly of either plumbers 
or masons. And, here again, the list of 
possible applications is not exhausted. Rather, 
the illustrations are intended only as sug- 
gestions of the manner in which the useful- 
ness of certain story may be varied. The 
actual scope of such variation is limited only 
by the seeker's ingenuity. 

It seems well to give the speaker a few 
words of advice concerning the choice of his 
stories. It may surprise him to be told that 
it is usually more expedient to choose the 
old tale rather than the new. The reasons 
for this are twofold. In the first place, the 
new story travels the rounds with a celerity 
truly amazing. Means of communication are 
C ioo ] 



THE APPLICATION OF STORIES 

so multiplied in the modern community, and 
social intercourse is so constant that the latest 
humorous anecdote is speedily made known 
to almost every one. Therefore, if the speaker 
put his reliance on the story of the moment, he 
is likely to have it fall flat. The audience 
has already laughed itself weary of this par- 
ticular jest. In the second place, the anti- 
quated narrative has been dead and buried so 
long that on its resurrection it is recognizable 
by few, if any hearers. As a matter of fact, 
certain essentially amusing situations are 
forever cropping up in our humorous narra- 
tives. The characters involved and the 
setting of dialogue or action are varied to 
meet the requirements of contemporary en- 
tertainment, but the substance of the plot 
remains the same. It has been sarcastically 
declared that all jokes may be traced to 
three originals, though constantly paraded 
under multitudinous disguises. It is not true, 
nor would it be true if the number were set at 
three hundred. But the exaggeration itself 

serves to impress on us an appreciation of the 
[ioi] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

fact. The real identity of a humorous in- 
cident survives through countless changes of 
appearance. To a careful student of humor, a 
story is rarely, if ever, quite new. At the 
best, it is merely a new dressing for an old 
point. And since the special form of the 
tale serves only as the vehicle for its humor, 
the old story is fully the equal of the new in 
its amusing quality, and there is more likeli- 
hood that the ancient garb will appear strange 
to to-day's audience. I remember one story 
that pleased me mightily when I was a boy. 
I found it in the humorous department of a 
standard magazine, of which there were bound 
files in the library of my home. The issue of 
the magazine was under date of the early 
sixties. I have repeatedly told that story, 
with unfailing success; it seemed always 
agreeably new to the audience. But about 
ten years ago I decided to tell this anecdote 
no more for a long time. The reason was 
that in a new number of the same magazine 
I found the story repeated almost word for 

word in the humorous department, just as 
[102] 



THE APPLICATION OF STORIES 

half a century earlier. And the magazine still 
has a large vogue. I knew that this republi- 
cation would place the story before so many 
readers as to render it unsatisfactory for my 
purposes. But by and by I shall use it again. 

Often, too, there is a wholesome simplicity 
in the primitive narrative that may well cause 
preference of it over later, more sophisticated 
versions. For example, at a wedding break- 
fast I would not care to relate some of the 
newest anecdotes dealing with the marriage 
relation. There is a suggestion of decadence 
in them that might be deemed offensive on 
such an occasion, and quite properly so 
deemed. But I would not hesitate to relate 
the dialogue between the two soldiers on the 
eve of battle : 

Jack and Jim, as they lay on their blankets 
looking up at the stars, were moved to 
solemn thoughts before the dread possibilities 
of the morrow. At last, after a long silence 
Jim questioned his comrade. 

"Jack, how did it come about that you 
decided to go to war ?" 

[103] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

Jack pondered for a little, and then gave a 
straightforward explanation. 

"Well, you see, I was always fond of rows 
and ructions and all kinds of fighting ' and 
such, and I wa'n't married, and so I come." 
Then, after an interval, he propounded the 
question in his turn: 

"Jim, how's happen you decided to go to 
war?" 

Jim swallowed a few times and presently 
spoke in a level, rather tired voice. 

"Well, Jack, you see as how it was like this. 
I never did like rows and ruction and fighting 
and such like, and I was married, and I loved 
peace and quietness, and I had a wife and 
eight children, and so I come!" 

Similarly, too, I should have no scruples 
in relating before the bridal pair an anecdote 
of Grandpa Doolittle. He was a good man, a 
substantial farmer and a deacon in the church 
in the early days of Vermont. But some 
busy bodies of his own generation had been 
heard to allege that the poor man was hen- 
pecked. One evening, a little Hiram Doo- 
[104] 



THE APPLICATION OF STORIES 

little, the old man's grandson, broke off the 
study of his lessons to ask a question. 

"Oh, gran'pa, what great war began" in 
1812?" 

The old deacon mused for a few moments, 
then suddenly straightened and answered with 
unaccustomed vigor: 

"1812 — 181 2? Why, that's the year I 
married your grandma!" 

And at the same marriage feast, I might 
venture to tell of the self-assertive husband, 
who, had been chased from cellar to garret 
and back to the family bed-room by his very 
high-spirited wife plying a broom. The un- 
fortunate man sought refuge by crawling 
under the bed. As the wife prodded at 
him with the broom-handle she vociferated 
shrilly: 

"William Henry Peck, you come out from 
under that bed." 

But William Henry, while he fended the 
broomstick from his ribs as best he could with 
his hands, announced in muffled, but firm 
accents: 

[105] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

"I won't come out, Mariah ! I will be mas- 
ter in my own house!" 

It is suggested to the speaker that he should 
exercise great caution in repeating any par- 
ticular story. It is advisable for him to make 
a practise of using an anecdote once, and once 
only in his public addresses. He may assume 
that the stories he tells are quoted by those 
who hear them, that they even find their way 
into the public press. In short, by his use 
of them, he places them in the category of 
new stories, and the warning given above 
against the employment of these applies 
henceforth. More than one speaker has at- 
tained an unenviable notoriety by injudicious 
repetitions of a favorite story. There is no 
excuse for such folly, since the supply of 
material is practically inexhaustible. When- 
ever repetitions are made they should be 
separated by long intervals of time, preferably 
of years. 



[106] 



Chapter XI 
TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 

IN the old days, it was the custom to drink 
deeply after dinner in the baronial hall, 
and the custom of that convivial period 
established an etiquette that was aped in 
more modest establishments — an etiquette, 
indeed, that has in some features survived to 
our own time. This is especially true in 
the matter of toasts. The drinking bout was 
recognized as an occasion for jollity. But 
there is no gaiety in a bibulousness which is 
silent. So, minstrels tuned harps and voices 
for the entertainment of the revelers, and tales 
were told, and many bumpers drained to the 
honor of gods and men and gallant deeds. 
Thus, the practise of offering toasts was 
developed. The social aspect of the custom 
gave it the strength through which it became 

almost universal among civilized men, through 

[107] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

which it survives to some extent even among 
those who resist the lure of wine. This 
anomaly is truly like the play of "Hamlet" 
with Hamlet left out, but the sentiment of 
prohibition, while rejecting liquor, will retain 
its most graceful feature, the offering of toasts. 
In giving a toast, the speaker simply names 
some person or thing as a subject to be 
honored by the company in a draft of wine. 
The plainest form for the toast is, of course, 
the mere naming of the person or thing to 
receive the tribute of the ceremony. From 
this point of simplicity, the speaker may 
extend his remarks in any manner he chooses. 
He may pay a compliment, either ingenious 
or sincere or both, to the subject of his toast 
or he may deliver a considerable eulogy, or 
he may discuss particularly any phase of the 
subject that appeals to him. Usually, it is 
better to reserve actual naming of the subject 
for the conclusion of the remarks. And to 
the designation thus at the end, there may be 
added a sentiment, a phrase briefly summing 

up the virtues of the theme. For example, 

[108] 



TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 

in offering as a toast the word "Home," a 
favorite sentiment has been, "the father's 
kingdom, the child's paradise, the mother's 
world." 

This quotation brings us to a consideration 
of what is most expedient in the matter of 
sentiments to be used in the offering of toasts. 
The toast itself presents no difficulty. It is 
no more and no less than the naming of any 
subject it proposed to honor. But in the 
matter of the sentiment there is more difficulty, 
since it should be made distinctive, yet 
within the restrictions of the best taste. The 
custom has been in the past to formulate 
sentiments of a rhetorical sort, ornate, flam- 
boyant. For all patriotic toasts, the spread- 
eagle character was in high favor. The effort 
generally was toward something high-sounding 
or ostentatiously clever. To-day, our taste 
is rather for simplicity in both the thought 
and the form of the sentiment. In this 
respect, just as with oratory in all its other 
phases, the tendency is toward directness of 

thought and plainess of expression. So, it is 
[109] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

advisable for the speaker to meet the mood of 
the hour by scrupulous avoidance of mere- 
tricious adornment of artificial. It is far 
better to make the sentiment the expression 
of a simple and sincere feeling, expressed in 
the fewest possible words, and these words of 
a sort understandable by all. His best method 
is to carefully think out the particular thought 
to be emphasized, and then to give it a phras- 
ing of his own, direct and explicit. He must 
sedulously resist any temptation toward gran- 
diloquence in his statement. The sentiment 
should ring true, if it is to be effective. It is, 
therefore, necessary that it should be the 
expression of a real feeling, a sincere tribute. 
Such sincerity is most convincing in- the 
plainest garb of words. Ornament is likely 
to obscure its genuine quality. 

The sentiment may often be given to ad- 
vantage in the form of a quotation. Poems 
offer the best opportunity for admirable 
selections. It is for this reason that a com- 
pilation of quotations in verse is included in 

the present volume. The choice of these 
[no] 



TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 

selections has been carefully made with a view 
to their practical usefulness for a great variety 
of occasions. Preference has been given to 
those poets in our language whose work is 
most generally known and esteemed. There 
are two causes sufficient to justify such 
preference for those authors long and widely 
celebrated to others whose vogue is of the 
moment and, perhaps usually, merely transi- 
tory. Such poets as Byron and Burns are 
universally known and esteemed. Hardly 
an audience anywhere but would have at 
least some smatterings of knowledge con- 
cerning their works. The case would be quite 
otherwise in the average company were the 
poet quoted to be one who had achieved the 
latest eccentricity in free verse. Even his 
or her name would be unknown, and the 
effusion itself would be utterly unintelligible. 
It is important to remember that an audience 
does not relish being confounded by its own 
ignorance through the tactlessness of a speaker. 
For this reason, a distinct advantage is se- 
cured by employing a quotation from an 
[in] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

author who is at least theoretically familiar 
to the listeners. They complacently accept 
the verses of Longfellow, whose poetry was 
memorized by them in the district school, 
while they might, and probably would, resent 
the strange cadences of a writer whose name 
even was wholly strange in their ears. 

The second reason for the preference given 
to the poets of highest repute is found in the 
fact that uniformly their mode of expression 
is gratifyingly direct and lucid. It must be 
remembered that the speaker recites the 
quotation to the audience just once. He is 
not delivering a lecture on the poet; he does 
not analyze the verses phrase by phrase in 
order to explain their exact significance. The 
single repetition of the words is the only op- 
portunity afforded for the conveyance of the 
poet's thought. This condition has been 
carefully considered throughout in determin- 
ing those quotations best adapted to the 
speaker's purposes. This involves no denial 
of the merits possessed by the many poets 
rejected in the preparation of the list. Their 

[112] 



TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 

virtues, indeed, are many; oftentimes, from 
the strictly poetical standpoint, far superior 
to those represented here. Their fault, so 
far as the speaker's need is concerned, is that 
they are more difficult to understand. The 
speaker has to consider the availability of a 
quotation by the responsiveness to it of his 
audience. A beauty hidden is no beauty to 
the observer; the beautiful thought is a futile 
thing if it be unintelligible. 

For the greater convenience of the speaker, 
the list of quotations is presented under 
topical headings. These headings are arranged 
topical headings. These headings are ar- 
ranged in alphabetical order, so that the entire 
list is self-indexed. The headings themselves 
constitute a body of toasts suitable for a 
great variety of occasions, and in each in- 
stance the particular heading is followed by 
one or more quotations of poetry suitable for 
use as a sentiment in connection with the 
toast. 

The speaker should bear in mind that often 
it may be preferable to limit the sentiment to 
[113] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

a single line, or even phrase, of a stanza, 
instead of offering the whole quotation. More- 
over, he need have no hesitation in paraphras- 
ing any thought of the poet that makes a 
special appeal to him. Thus, he may find in 
the list a stimulant to his own fancy that will 
enable him to formulate the sentiment in his 
own words. Used in the manner indicated, 
the list of quotations will, it is hoped, prove 
very serviceable to the speaker in the task 
of preparation. 



[114] 



Toasts and Sentiments 



"Toasts and Sentiments 



AMERICA 

All With Thee 

Our hearts, our hopes are all with thee, 
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, 
Our faith triumphant o'er our fears, 
Are all with thee, are all with thee. 

- LOWELL 

* 

A Unity 

One flag, one land, one heart, one hand, 
One nation evermore! 

— HOLMES 

C"7] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

Breathes There A Man 

Breathes there a man with soul so dead, 
Who never to himself hath said, 

This is my own, my native land? 
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, 
As home his footsteps he hath turned. 

From wandering on a foreign strand? 
If such there breathe, go, mark him well; 
For him no minstrel raptures swell; 
High though his titles, proud his name, 
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim, 
Despite those titles, power and pelf, 
The wretch, concentered all in self, 
Living, shall forfeit fair renown, 
And, doubly dying, shall go down 
To the vile dust from whence he sprung, 
Unwept, unhonored, and unsung. 

— SCOTT 

• 
Country and Flag 

To her we drink, for her we pray, 

Our voices silent never; 
For her we'll fight, come what may, 

The stars and stripes forever! 

— DECATUR 
[118] 



TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 

My Native Land 

My native land! I turn to you, 

With blessing and with prayer, 
Where man is brave and woman true, 

And free as mountain air. 
Long may our flag in triumph wave 

Against the world combined, 
And friends a welcome — foes a grave, 

Within our borders find. 

— MORRIS 



Our Country 

Our Country, may she always be in the right — 
but right or wrong — Our Country. 

— DECATUR 

• 

Where the Heart Is 

Our country is that spot to which our heart is 
bound. 

— VOLTAIRE 



[119] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 



BEER 

Into the Can 

Who'd care to be a bee and sip 
Sweet honey from a flower's lip 
When he might be a fly and steer 
Head first into a can of beer? 

- ANON. 

• 

The Remedy of Grief 

Such power hath beer. The heart where Grief 

hath cankered 
Hath one unfailing remedy — the tankard. 

— SAXE 



BRANDT 

The Liar 

If wine tells truth, and so have said the wise; 
It makes me laugh to think how brandy lies. 

— HOLMES 



[120] 



TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 



CONTENTMENT 

Girl and Friend and Pitcher 

The wealthy fool with gold in store 

Will still desire to grow richer, 
Give me but these, I ask no more — 

My charming girl, my friend, and pitcher. 

My friend so rare, my girl so fair, 
With such, what mortal can he richer? 

Give me but these, a fig for care, 

With my sweet girl, my friend, and pitcher. 

From morning sun, I'd never grieve 

To toil a hedger, or a ditcher, 
If that when I come home at eve, 

I might enjoy my friend and pitcher. 

My friend so rare, my girl so fair, 
With such, what mortal can he richer? 

Give me but these, a fig for care, 

With my sweet girl, my friend, and pitcher. 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

Tho' Fortune ever shuns my door — 
I do not know what can bewitch her — 

With all my heart can I be poor, 

With my sweet girl, my friend, and pitcher. 

My friend so rare, my girl so fair, 
With such, what mortal can be richer? 

Give me but these, a fig for care, 

With my sweet girl, my friend, and pitcher. 

— ANON. 
• 

Sambo's Toast 

Little ter-day an' little ter-morrer, 
Out o' meal an' bound ter borrer; 
Hoe cake an' dab o' dough, 
Dash her down and say no mo'. 
Peace at home and pleasure abroad, 
Please your neighbor an' sarve the Lord. 
God bless you! 

— ANON. 
• 

The Little Needs 

A little health, a little wealth, 

A little house and freedom, 

With some few friends for certain ends, 

But little cause to need 'em. 

— ANON. 

[122] 



TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 



DEATH 

Dead All Over 

While we live, let's live in clover, 

For when we're dead, we're dead all over. 

— ANON. 

DINING 

The One Essential 

We may live without poetry, music and art, 
We may live without conscience and live without 

heart, 
We may live without friends; we may live without 

books; 
But civilized men cannot live without cooks. 
We may live without books, — 
What is knowledge but grieving. 
We may live without hope, — what is hope but 

deceiving. 
We may live without love, — what is passion but 

pining; 
But where is the man who can live without dining? 

— MEREDITH 



[123] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 



DRINKING 

The Old Convivial Glow 

I feel the old convivial glow (unaided) o'er me 
stealing — 

The warm, champagny, old particular, brandy- 
punchy feeling. 

— HOLMES 



FRIENDSHIP 

Good Fellows 

A glass is good, and a lass is good, 
And a pipe to smoke in cold weather; 

The world is good and the people are good, 
And we're all good fellows together. 

— o'keefe 

• 

Here's to Those 

Here's to those I love; 

Here's to those who love me; 

Here's to those who love those I love, 

And here's to those who love those who love me. 

— ANON. 
[124] 



TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 

Most Prized 

Old books, old wine, old nankin blue — 

All things, in short, to which belong 

The charm, the grace, that time makes strong, 

All these I prize, but (entre nous) 

Old friends are best. 

— DOBSON 



The Four Blessings 

Oh! Be thou blest with that heaven can send, 
Long health, long youth, long pleasure — and a 
friend. 

— POPE 



The Four Hinges 

Here's to the four hinges of Friendship, 
Swearing, Lying, Stealing and Drinking. 

When you swear, swear by your country; 
When you lie, lie for a pretty woman; 

When you steal, steal away from bad company; 
And when you drink, drink with me. 

— ANON. 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

The Loving Cup 

And let the Loving-Cup go round, 

The cup with blessed memories crowned, 

That flows when e'er we meet — my boys. 

No draught will hold a drop of sin, 

If love is only well stirred in 

To keep it sound and sweet — my boys. 

To keep it sound and sweet. 

— HOLMES 

GIRLS 

Prettiest Last 

You may run the whole gamut of color and shade 
A pretty girl — however you dress her — 

Is the prettiest thing that ever was made, 
And the last one is always the prettiest, 
Bless her! 

— ANON. 

GOODNESS 

One Grand Sweet Song 

Be good, and let who will be clever, 
Do noble things, not dream them all day long, 
And thus make life, death and that vast forever 
One grand sweet song. 

— ANON. 

[126] 



TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 



HAPPINESS 

A Twin 

All who joy would win 

Must share it: — Happiness was born a twin. 

BYRON 



HOME 

The World of Love 

A world of strife shut out, and a world of love 
shut in. 

— ANON. 



IN MEMORIAM 

To Those Who Have Passed 

Oh! here's to other meetings 

And other greetings then, 
And here's to those we've drunk with, 

But never can again. 

— anon. 



[127] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 



KISSES 

And Again! 

Give me kisses! Nay, 'tis true 
I am just as rich as you; 
And for every kiss I owe, 
I can pay you back, you know. 

Kiss me, then 

Every moment and again. 

— SAXE 



Neglect 

How should great Jove himself do else than this 
To win the woman he forgets to kiss. 

— PATMORE 



No, Never! 

I ne'er could any lustre see 

In eyes that would not look at me 

I ne'er found nectar on a lip 

But where my own did hope to sip. 

— SHERIDAN 
[128] 



TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 

Propinquity 

'Tis sweet to think that where'er we rove, 
We are sure to find something blissful and dear, 
And that when we are far from the lips that we 

love 
WeVe but to make love to the lips that are near. 

— MOORE 

* 

Sweeter By Far 

You will find, my dear boy, that the dearly prized 
kiss, 

Which with rapture you snatched from the half- 
willing Miss, 

Is sweeter by far than the legalized kisses 

You give the same girl when you've made her 
a Mrs. 

— ANON. 

* 

Sweetest Memorial 

When age chills the blood, when our pleasures 

are past — 
When years fleet away with the wings of the 

dove — 

[129] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

The dearest remembrance will still be the last, 
Our sweetest memorial the first kiss of love. 

— BYRON 



The Remedy 

Never a lip is curved in pain 

That can't be kissed into smiles again. 

— HARTE 



LAUGHTER 

Coffin-Nails 

Care to our coffin adds a nail, no doubt, 
And every grin, so merry, draws one out. 

— WOLCOTT 



Laugh and be Fat 

Laugh and be fat, sir, your penance is known; 
They that love mirth let them heartily drink 
5 Tis the only receipt to make sorrow sink. 

— JOHNSON 

[130] 



TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 

Laugh At All 

Laugh at all things, 

Great and small things, 
Sick or well, at sea or shore; 

While we're quaffing, 

Let's have laughing, 
Who the devil cares for more? 

— BYRON 



LIQUOR 

Ally of Genius 

Let schoolmasters puzzle their brain, 
With grammar and nonsense and learning; 
Good liquor, I stoutly maintain 
Gives genius a better discerning. 

— GOLDSMITH 



LONG LIFE 



Paradox 



Here's that we may live to eat the hen 
That scratches on our grave. 

— anon. 

[131] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 



LOVE 

Better to Have Loved and Lost 

I hold it true, what'er befall, 
I feel it when I sorrow most; 

'Tis better to have loved and lost, 
Than never to have loved at all. 

TENNYSON 



If ! 

Here's to those who'd love us 

If we only cared. 
Here's to those we'd love 

If we only dared. 

— ANON. 

• 

His Own 

Here's to the man who loves his wife, 

And loves his wife alone. 
For many a man loves another man's wife, 
When he ought to be loving his own. 

— ANON. 
[132] 



TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 

Love Laughs at Law 

0, rank is good, and gold is fair, 
And high and low mate ill; 
But love has never known a law, 
Beyond its own sweet will. 

— WHITTIER 

• 

Time Wasted 

The cup that is longest un tasted 
> May be with our bliss running o'er, 
And, love when we will, we have wasted 
An age in not loving before. 

— WILLIS 



To Celia 

Drink to me only with thine eyes, 

And I will pledge with mine; 
Or leave a kiss but in the cup, 

And I'll not look for wine. 
The thirst that from the soul doth rise, 

Doth ask a drink divine; 
But might I of Jove's nectar sup, 

I would not change from thine. 
[-133-3 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

I sent thee late a rosy wreath, 

Not so much honouring thee, 
As giving it a hope that there 

It could not withered be. 
But thou thereon didst only breathe, 

And sent'st it back to me: 
Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, 

Not of itself, but thee. 

— JOHNSON 

To-day 

Time is short, life is short, 

Life is sweet, love is sweet, use to-day while you 

may; 
Love is sweet, and to-morrow may fail; 
Love is sweet, use to-day. 

— CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI 
• 

To Each, A Mate 

To every lovely lady bright, 
I wish a gallant faithful knight; 
To every faithful lover, too 
I wish a trusting lady true. 

— SCOTT 

[134 3 



TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 

To Thee 

Here's a sigh to those who love me, 
And a smile to those who hate; 
And whatever sky's above me, 
Here's a heart for every fate. 
Were't the last drop in the well, 
As I gasped upon the brink, 
Ere my fainting spirit fell, 
Tis to thee that I would drink. 

— BYRON 



Unrequited Love 

A mighty pain to love it is, 
And 'tis a pain that pain to miss; 
But, of all pains, the greatest pain, 
Is to love, but love in vain. 

— COWLEY 



When Heaven Opens 

O tender longing! sweet hope! the golden 
time of first love — the eye sees the heaven open 
while the heart is silent in blissfulness. 

— SCHILLER 

[i35] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 



MARRIAGE 

A Crown of Blessing 

Look down you gods, 

And on this couple drop a blessed crown. 

— SHAKESPEARE 



OLD AGE 

The Good Die Young 

The good die young — Here's hoping that 
you may live to a ripe old age. 

— ANON. 



OLD TIMES 

In Memory 

I drink it as the Fates ordain it, 

Come, fill it, and have done with rhymes; 

Fill up the lonely glass, and drain it 
In memory of dear old times. 

— THACKERAY 

[136] 



TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 



PRESENT 

My Hour 

The past was bad, and the future hid its good or 

ill untried, 0; 
But the present hour was in my power, and so I 

would enjoy it, O. 

— BURNS 



PROSPERITY 

For Me, For You 

A cheerful glass, a pretty lass, 
A friend sincere and true; 
Blooming health, good store of wealth, 
Attend on me and you. 

— ANON. 



QUAKER TOAST 

Me and Mine, Thee and Thine 

Here's a health to me and mine, 
Not forgetting thee and thine; 
[i37] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

And when thee and thine 
Come to see me and mine, 

May me and mine make thee and thine 
As welcome as thee and thine 
Have ever made me and mine. 



ANON. 



SLEEP 

A Fair Good-Night 

To all, to each, a fair good-night, 

And pleasant dreams and slumbers light! 

— SCOTT 



SOLDIERS 

A Woman's Toast 

The soldiers of America, 
Their arms our defense, 
Our arms their recompense — 
Fall in, men; fall in! 

— ANON. 

[138] 



TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 



STARS AND STRIPES 

Our Flag 

The Lily of France may fade, 
The Thistle and Shamrock wither, 

The Oak of England may decay, 
But the Stars shine on forever. 



SUMMER 

To June and Summer Time 

When blue bells ring their merry chime 
Announcing June and summer time 
And dancing brooks their carols sing 
Prophetic of the passing spring 
We'll pluck a golden buttercup 
And with the dew we'll fill it up, 
And drink a health to happy hours — 
To singing birds; to fragrant flowers. 

— ANON. 



[139] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 



TEMPERANCE 

A Welcome Back 

A man may drink, and no be drunk; 

A man may fight, and no be slain; 
A man may kiss a bonnie lass, 

And aye be welcome back again. 

— BURNS 



Moderation In All Things 

I takes my pipe, I takes my pot; 

And drunk I am never seen to be; 
I'm no teetotaler, or sot, 

And as I am I mean to be. 

— GILBERT 



WATER 

The True Toper 

A fig then for Burgundy, Claret or Mountain, 
A few scanty glasses must limit your wish; 

But he's the true toper that goes to the fountain, 
The drinker that verily "drinks like a fish!" 

— HOOD 

[140] 



TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 



WINE 

All In Drink 

We'll have it all in drink; let meat and lodg- 
ing go; they are transitory and show men merely 
mortal. 

— BEAUMONT and FLETCHER 



And Another 

Here's to a long life and a merry one, 
A quick death and a happy one, 
A good girl and a pretty one, 
A cold bottle and another one. 

— ANON. 



Another Day 

Let us have wine and women, mirth and laughter, 
Sermons and soda-water the day after. 

— BYRON 

Bottle and Friend 

Here's to a bottle and an honest friend; 
What would you wish for more, man? 

[ho 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

Who knows before his life may end 
What his share may be of care, man. 

— BURNS 



Drink and Be Merry 

Drink, my jolly lads, drink with discerning, 
Wedlock's a lane where there is no turning; 
Never was owl more blind than lover; 
Drink and be merry, lads; half seas over. 

— MULOCK 



Fill High! 

Then fill the cup, fill high! fill high! 

Nor spare the rosy wine, 
If death be in the cup, we'll die — 

Such death would be divine. 

— LOWELL 



For the Hour-Glass 

Say, why did Time 
His glass sublime 

Fill up with sands, unsightly. 
[142] 



TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 

When wine he knew 
Runs brisker through 
And sparkles far more brightly? 

— MOORE 



Had I The Power 

O, little fishes of the sea, 

Had I the power divine, 
Td turn you into silver cups, 

And your sea to purple wine. 

— ANON. 



In the Goblet Alone 

Fill the goblet again; for I never before 

Felt the glow which now gladdens my heart to 

its core. 
Let us drink; who would not? since through life's 

varied round 
In the goblet alone no deception is found. 

— BYRON 



[143] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

No Sting 

Friend of my soul! this goblet sip — 

'Twill chase the pensive tear; 
'Tis not so sweet as a woman's lip, 

But O! 'tis more sincere. 
Like her delusive beam, 

'Twill steal away the mind; 
But unlike affection's dream, 

It leaves no sting behind. 

— MOORE 

• 

Our Sun 

This bottle's the sun of our table. 

His beams are rosy wine; 
We, planets that are not able 

Without his help to shine. 

— SHERIDAN 

• 

Pegasus 

If with water you fill up your glasses, 
You'll never write anything wise; 

For wine is the horse of Parnassus, 
Which hurries a bard to the skies. 

— MOORE 

[144] 



TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 

Salvation 

Strong ale was ablution, 
Small beer persecution, 

A drum was memento mori; 
But a full-flowing bowl 
Was the saving his soul, 

And port was celestial glory. 



— BURNS 



The Big-Bellied Bottle 

No churchman am I for to rail and to write; 
No statesman nor soldier to plot or to fight; 
No sly man of business contriving a snare, 
For a big-bellied bottle's the whole of my care. 

— BURNS 

The Bumper 

Fill the bumper fair! 

Every drop we sprinkle 
O'er the brow of care 

Smoothes away a wrinkle. 
Wit's electric flame 

Ne'er so swiftly passes 

[145] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

As when through the frame 

It shoots from brimming glasses. 

— MOORE 

* 

The Captain's Taste 

Did you ever hear of Captain Wattle? 
He was all for love and a little bottle. 

— dibden 

• 

The Loving Cup 

Thus circling the cup, hand in hand, ere we 
drink, 
Let sympathy pledge us, through pleasure, 
through pain, 
That, fast as feeling but touches one link, 
Her magic shall send it direct through the 
chain. 

— MOORE 

• 

The Wife's Query 

Then fill a fair and honest cup, and bear it 

straight to me; 
The goblet hallows all it holds, what e'er the 

liquid be, 

[146] 



TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 

And may the cherubs on its face, protect me 

from the sin 
That dooms me to those dreadful words, "My 

dear, where have you been?" 

— HOLMES 

* 
To Folly 

Now, down with care and blithely swear 

A truce to melancholy; 
Let each good soul fill up his bowl 

And drink a toast to folly! 

— POWELL 

• 

To Joy 

Then fill the glass — away with gloom, 
Our joys shall always last; 
For hope will brighten days to come, 
And memory guild the past. 

— MOORE 
• 

To Noah 

So a cup ere we part to the man of our heart, 
Old Noah, the primitive grower of wine; 
And one brimming cup (nay, fill it quite up), 
To the angel who gave him the seed of the vine. 

— SAXE 
[147] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

Twin Aches 

Tween woman and wine a man's lot is to smart, 
For wine makes his head ache, and woman his 
heart. 

— ANON. 



While Able 

Here, waiter, more wine, let me sit while I'm able, 
Till all my companions sink under the table. 

— GOLDSMITH 



While You May 

Drink to-day and drown all sorrow;" 
You shall perhaps not do't to-morrow; 
Best while you have it, use your breath, 
There is no drinking after death. 

— BEAUMONT and FLETCHER 



[148] 



TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 



WOMAN 

All Together 

Let her be clumsy, or let her be slim, 
Young or ancient, I care not a feather; 

So fill up a bumper, nay, fill to the brim, 
Let us toast all the ladies together. 

— ANON. 



A Reasonable Woman 

I know the thing that's most uncommon; 

(Envy be silent and attend) 
I know a reasonable woman, 
Handsome, and witty, yet a friend. 

— POPE 

A Woman Perfected 
Earth's noblest thing — a woman perfected, 

— LOWELL 



[149] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 



Except 



Here's to woman, the sweetheart, the wife, 
The delight of our firesides by night and by 
day, 

Who never does anything wrong in her life, 
Except when permitted to have her own way. 

— HALLECK 



Excuse for the Glass 

Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen, 

Here's to the widow of fifty, 
Here's to the flaunting extravagant queen, 

And here's to the housewife that's thrifty. 

Let the toast pass. 
Drink to the lass, 
Fit warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass. 

Heres' to the charmer whose dimples we prize, 
Here's to the maid who has none, sir, 
Here's to the girl with a pair of blue eyes, 
And here's to the nymph with but one, sir. 

Let the toast pass. 
Drink to the lass, 
FU warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass. 
CiSo] 



TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 

Here's to the maid with a bosom of snow, 
Now to her that's as brown as a berry, 
Here's to the wife with a face full of woe, 
And now to the damsel that's merry. 

Let the toast pass. 
Drink to the lass, 
I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass. 

For let 'em be clumsy, or let 'em be thin, 
Young or ancient, I care not a feather, 
So fill up up your glasses, nay, fill to the brim, 
And let us e'en toast 'em together. 

Let the toast pass, 
Drink to the lass, 
I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass. 

— SHERIDAN 

• 

Garland of Love 

Honored be woman! she beams on the sight, 
Graceful and fair, like a being of light, 
Scatters around her wherever she strays, 
Roses of bliss on our thorn-covered ways — 
Roses of paradise fresh from above, 
To be gathered and twined in a garland of love. 

— HOOD 
[i5i] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

Her Charms 

She is pretty to walk with, 
She is pretty to talk with, 
And pleasant, too, to think on. 

— SUCKLING 

• 

Her Contrariety 

Here's to woman, the source of all our bliss; 

There's a foretaste of heaven in her kiss; 

But from the queen upon her throne, to the maid 

in the dairy, 
They are all alike, in one respect — "contrary." 

— ANON. 

Her Eyes 

Here's to the girl with eyes of blue, 

Whose heart is kind and love is true; 
Here's to the girl with eyes of brown, 

Whose spirit proud you cannot down; 
Here's to the girl with eyes of gray, 

Whose sunny smile drives care away; 
Whate'er the hue of their eyes may be, 

I'll drink to the girls this toast with thee! 

— ANON. 



TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 

Her Fickleness 

I'm convinced a woman can 

Love this, or that, or any other man; 

This day she's melting hot, 

To-morrow swears she knows you not; 

If she but a new object find, 

Then straight she's of another mind. 

— SUCKLING 



Her Place 

They talk about a woman's sphere as though it 

had a limit; 
There's not a place on earth or heaven, 
There's not a task to mankind given, 
There's not a blessing or a woe, 
There's not a whispered yes or no, 
There's not a life or birth, 
That has a feather's weight of worth — 
Without a woman in it. 

— ANON. 



[153] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

In the Home 

Woman! with that word, 

In the green bower of home. 

Truth, beauty, love, in her adored, 
And earth's lost paradise restored, 

Life's dearest hopes and memories come; 

— HALLECK 



Look On Her Face 

Bright as the sun her eyes the gazers strike, 
And like the sun they shine on all alike, 
Yet graceful ease and sweetness void of pride 
Might hide her faults if belles had faults to hide. 
If to her share some female errors fall 
Look on her face and you'll forget them all. 

— POPE 



Naval Toast 

Here's to our sweethearts and our wives; 
May our sweethearts soon become our wives 
And our wives ever remain our sweethearts. 

— anon. 

[154] 



TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 

Pearl of All Things 

O pearl of all things, woman! Adored by the 
artist who created thee. 

— SCHILLER 

• 

Place Aux Dames 

And when a lady's in the case Nx - 

You know all other things give place. 

— GAY 

• 

Superlative 

O fairest of creation! last and best 
Of all God's works! Creature in whom excelled 
Whatever can to sight or thought be form'd, 
Holy, divine, good, amiable^.or sweet. 

— MILTON 

)' * 

The Lasses 

And nature swears, the lovely dears 
Her noblest work she classes, O; 
Her 'prentice hand she tried on man, 
And then she made the lasses, O. 

— burns 
dS5] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

The Modern Woman 

At last 

She rose upon a wind of prophecy, 

Dilating on the future. 

— TENNYSON 



The Paragon 

I fill this cup to one made up 

Of loveliness alone, 
A woman of her gentle sex 

The seeming paragon; 
To whom the better elements 

And kindly stars have given 
A form so fair that, like the air, 

'Tis less of earth than heaven. 

Her health! And would on earth there stood 

Some more of such a frame, 
That life might be all poetry, 

And weariness a name. 

— PINKNEY 



[156] 



TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 

The Supreme Faithfulness 

Talk about the devotion of the sex, but the 
most faithful attachment in life is that of a 
woman in love — with herself. 

— LYTTON 



Those Eyes 

Those eyes whose light seemed rather given 

To be adored than to adore — 
Such eyes as may have looked from heaven, 

But ne'er were raised to it before. 

— MOORE 



To the Composite Her 

Now, with wine as is due, let the honors be paid, 

Whilst I give my hand, heart and head; 
Here's to her, the fond mother, dear partner, kind 
maid, 
Who first taught me to love, woo and wed. 

— HOOD 



[157] 



AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 

To Thee 

While there's life on the lip, while there's warmth 

in the wine, 
One deep health I'll pledge, and that health shall 

be thine. 

— MEREDITH 



Whom Each Loves Best 

Drink ye to her that each loves best; 

And if you nurse a flame 
That's told but to her mutual breast, 

We will not ask her name. 

— CAMPBELL 



[158] 



FORMS FOR SPEECHES 

HERE are presented numerous 
forms of speeches, suitable for use 
on various occasions. Each is 
complete in itself, and merely re- 
quires memorizing. These set addresses have 
been very carefully prepared by one who is 
accustomed to speech-making, and they will, 
therefore, be found satisfactory, since they 
have the proper character for oral delivery, 
which is something quite different oftentimes 
from the quality that distinguishes the written 
discourse. The addresses are distinctly of a 
sort that may be delivered with the effect of 
being extemporaneous. 

Care has been used to make the form in 
every instance of the broadest possible char- 
acter. Owing to this fact, their usefulness is 
greatly extended, without close restrictions of 
[161] 



SPEECHES 

time and locality. Indeed, any one of the 
collection might be available for occasions 
other than that designated by the heading. 
Moreover, pains have been taken to avoid 
repetitions, and by reason of this fact two or 
more of the forms may be joined to make a 
single discourse when the occasion demands 
an oration. The choice of subjects has been 
made with a view to listing those of chief 
importance, and it results from this that a 
great variety of occasions not specifically des- 
ignated by the titles are, nevertheless, so 
related to them that the set forms will prove 
available unfailingly. 

The general nature of the addresses is some- 
what serious, since this is fitting to many of 
the particular occasions included in the list. 
It will be noted, however, that there are 
lighter touches when these are justified by the 
occasion. In addition, it must be borne in 
mind that these forms put no restraint on the 
ambitious speaker. They are intended for the 
convenience of anyone who finds himself 
under the necessity of delivering an address 
[162] 



FORMS FOR SPEECHES 

while unprepared either from inclination or 
inability. They are purposely made short 
enough to permit of easy memorizing, while 
they are still long enough fully to answer the 
requirements of the occasion. But individual 
preference and ability may choose to adapt 
them and to enlarge them. Especially, an 
ambitious speaker may avail himself of the 
material here offered, and yet make it really 
his own by such alterations and additions as 
shall appeal to him. In this direction, the 
most important point will be the improve- 
ment of any particular address by appropriate 
references to local conditions and matters of 
timeliness. Thus, in an address on Decora- 
tion Day, specific mention of the valor dis- 
played by the soldiery in that community 
where the exercises are held. So, too, at a 
family reunion there should be some enum- 
eration of the exploits of members of the 
clan, and these narratives may be either grave 
or gay, preferably both. It is well to pay a 
tribute to the greatness of the famous divine 
or the bravery of the doughty genera^ but it 
[163] 



SPEECHES 

is also well to cite a mythical relation who 
beat all his eight wives, or of the real ancestor 
who was hanged for sheep-stealing. In any 
way possible, there should be an effort to deck 
the bare form with allusions of a familiar 
kind, calculated to interest and please the 
hearers, to arouse in them a personal sympa- 
thy with the speaker's thought. 

In the preceding portion of this volume, 
ample instruction has been given as to the 
method for making use of the funny story in 
a speech. Those directions are all equally 
applicable in connection with these set forms. 
For example, at the outset of an address on 
Lincoln's Birthday, it would be quite suit- 
able to tell any preferred humorous anecdote, 
and follow it by the statement that the story 
has been attributed to Abraham Lincoln. 
This would be true, in all probability, since 
the number of good stories credited to that 
great man is beyond all counting. Of course, 
in such case, the law of timeliness must be 
regarded. It would not do thus to quote a 
tale of flying machines or submarines or radio- 
[164] 



FORMS FOR SPEECHES 

telephones. Similarly, essentially any story 
that is really amusing may be made applicable 
to the particular occasion by the use of a little 
ingenuity, following the instructions pre- 
viously given on the subject. 

Use is to be made at pleasure of any de- 
sired extracts from the list of toasts and sen- 
timents, for the purpose of adorning the 
address on any particular occasion. 



[ 165 ] 



NEW YEAR'S DAY 

THE New Year! The dates of the 
calendar are as the milestones for 
man's journey through life. On a 
certain day in a certain year, a child 
was born; the child grows to maturity, lives 
out its appointed span, and then, on a certain 
day in a certain year, dies. The vital events 
are noted according to the calendar. Births, 
marriages and deaths are recorded in the fam- 
ily Bible — in the bureau of vital statistics. 
Life is measured by its years. Every year is 
a cycle complete in itself, a cycle of months, 
weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds. New 
Year's Day is both a beginning and an end. 
It marks the conclusion of one such cycle, 
it marks the beginning of another. Thus, 
the day has a peculiar, a striking signifi- 
cance for every individual. This anniver- 
sary compels the deep attention of every 
[166] 



NEW YEAR'S DAY 

one of us. It compels us to reflect on 
the cycle that is ended, and, as well, to 
consider carefully the new cycle that is open- 
ing. Naturally, there is review of the past, 
anticipation of the future. We are blest in- 
deed if we are able to gain wisdom from a 
study of our experiences through the days 
that are gone, and to apply that wisdom in 
the ruling of our conduct through the days to 
come. Such wisdom is garnered not only 
from happiness, but also, and in chief meas- 
ure, from the bitterest trials of life. Often, 
indeed, a clear vision looks back over the 
years, and beholds in the most grievous sor- 
rows so difficultly endured the means whereby 
character was purified, whereby the spirit 
grew and took on strength to achieve. 

Just because the New Year carries with it 
this impulse to examine the past and to plan 
the future, it is inevitably a time of keen re- 
grets as well as of high aspirations. A can- 
did survey of things done must show even the 
best among us faults both of commission and 
of omission. It follows, of course, that in 
[167] 



SPEECHES 

planning the future, the repetition of such 
faults is denied a place. Hence, New Year 
resolutions. 

Now, New Year resolutions are good or 
bad according to the circumstances. Of 
course, the particular resolve may be taken 
for granted as meant to be an improvement 
in conduct. The quality of good or bad, 
therefore, so far as we are concerned has to 
do with the future history of the resolution. It 
being admitted that the resolution itself is 
admirable it is a good resolution if it is kept; 
it is a bad resolution if it is broken. The 
reason is that lieing is a vicious thing. The 
breaking of a promise is the worst sort of lie- 
ing. The breaking of a promise to one's self 
has a guilt all its own. It means a flabby will. 
The flabby will is a foe to righteousness. To 
be sure, many persons of strong will are evil, 
but we may be sure that no weak and vacillat- 
ing person can be a saint. The late Professor 
James, the eminent psychologist, was vehe- 
ment in denouncing the evil of broken reso- 
lutions by reason of their destructive effect 
[168] 



NEW YEAR'S DAY 

on the will power. It is better for the char- 
acter to make no resolutions for the New 
Year, if any is to be broken. A single reso- 
lution carefully maintained is excellent: a 
dozen broken are not only absurd, they are 
profoundly injurious to the maker and breaker 
of them. The desire for improvement is a 
wholesome thing, and its manifestation at the 
New Year season deserves every encourage- 
ment. But enthusiasm for reform should be 
checked by prudence. Before the pledge is 
made, the cost of fulfillment should be most 
carefully considered, and there should be an 
honest estimate of the courage required of the 
ability to deny habit and desire for the sake 
of principle. The resolution deliberately 
formed and conscientiously carried out is of 
vast value in the building of character. 

At this season, as another year begins, we 
take comfort from the fact that we are still 
alive, and we celebrate joyously. The spirit 
of the occasion is exhibited in family re- 
unions, in community gatherings, in social 
gaieties of diverse sorts. The whole nation 
[169] 



SPEECHES 

honors the opening of the New Year as a 
national festival. And not our nation alone. 
Through all history, all races have alike done 
honor to the date that marked the beginning 
of their year. Though that date itself has 
varied widely, the spirit animating different 
peoples has always been the same. That spirit 
is the one that now animates us. There is a 
deeper feeling than that of which I have 
spoken, which has to do with religion. Stress 
is laid on this in every church, and it is a fact 
that all the religions of the world have sanc- 
tified this season. 

Reference to other calendars remind me that 
our own is not perfect. We have changed it 
often enough, but it is still defective. Once 
in four years, we must add an extra day in 
February to keep our dates harmonious with 
those of nature. But that defect gives a sin- 
gle touch of variety to the otherwise monot- 
onous repetitions of the calendar year. 
Incidentally, leap year has the traditional 
merit of generously offering opportunity to 
all love-lorn maiden ladies. 
£ 170] 



NEW YEAR'S DAY 

My friends, let us aspire, yet fairly within 
the measure of our powers; let us resolve 
yet discreetly; above all let us achieve. 

To the New Year, our endeavor, our at- 
tainment! 



[171] 



LINCOLN'S BIRTHDAY 

NO holiday could be more worthy 
than this. It is devoted to the 
memory of a man who is unique in 
history. He was one to whom came 
a most tremendous opportunity for service to 
his fellows; he was one who proved himself 
adequate to the mastery of a situation of su- 
preme trial. 

It is well to reflect with appreciative care 
on the character of Abraham Lincoln. He 
was such a product of our American Democ- 
racy as no other country could duplicate. 
He typified in his person that possibility of 
achievement which is our pride. His origin 
was of the humblest; he enjoyed in his youth 
no advantages whatsoever, as we understand 
the term. Poverty would have left him to 
illiterate obscurity, but for the fact that he 
possessed a burning desire to go forward, on- 
[172] 



LINCOLN'S BIRTHDAY 

ward, upward. He had, too, an inexhaustible 
energy with which to fight for the attainment 
pf his desire. He won education by sheer force 
of perseverance, a perseverance that was in* 
domitable. Who of us but has a mental pic- 
ture of the lanky youth poring over a borrowed 
book in the night hours, reading by the un- 
certain light of the fire on the cabin hearth. 
There is inspiration to every ambitious 
young man in the life story of Lincoln. It 
would seem, indeed, that there was nothing in 
his favor. Surely no one ever had less aid 
from his environment for the building of a 
career ; no one ever had set before him more 
and greater obstacles in the race for suprem- 
acy. Lincoln's one mighty asset was the 
noble spirit that was within him. It was a 
spirit keen to strive, indomitable, righteous. 
It was this spirit that drew other men to him, 
that made them appreciate and honor both 
his power and his love of the right. It was 
this spirit that compelled the trust of a mul- 
titude of his fellows, who turned over to him 
guardianship of our nation. How he dis- 
[i73l 



SPEECHES 

charged his duties through years of bloody 
stress is a record so simple that it is familiar 
to every schoolboy, and it is a record so won- 
derful that all true men do reverence to the 
name of Abraham Lincoln. His whole life 
stands in a beauty all its own for devoted 
service to his country and to his fellow men. 
His death was the final sacrifice on the altar 
of patriotism. 

Let us, then, remember this martyred presi- 
dent with a loving veneration that shall thrill 
us to deeper appreciation of the blessings that 
are ours, that shall thrill us also to a keener 
realization of our duties as fellow citizens of 
that great man, to more earnest fulfillment. 



[i74] 



SAINT VALENTINE'S DAY 

ALL the world loves a lover. Saint 
Valentine specialized in just that 
sort of thing. A noble career for 
a saint, if you ask me. For what 
is there more interesting than the infinite 
vagaries of true love? And it is only in be- 
half of true lovers that the saint bestirs him- 
self. 

It is, indeed, love that makes the world go 
round. Love, in the right use of the word, 
is always true love. Not only does love make 
the world go round, it makes life worth liv- 
ing — simply love, nothing else, makes beau- 
tiful the whole universe. Life is, in fact, a 
dreary, sordid and fruitless grind without it. 
Merely to eat and to drink, to be clothed, 
to toil at the gaining of such necessities are 
pursuits gross and earthly in themselves that 
bring the doer to nothingness of themselves. 
[i75] 



SPEECHES 

They become ennobled when love is the mo- 
tive underlying every activity. Such love 
may be of home and family, of country, of 
duty, of one's fellow man, of God. In its 
noblest expression, it may be all of these. 

The kindly old saint, however, confines his 
interest to the love affairs of a man and a maid. 
He is broad enough, let us hope, to make age 
no barrier. He is tolerant toward the man 
who is so young that we more experienced 
ones term his emotion calf-love, or even 
puppy-love. And the saint is tolerant, also, 
to the maid whom we brutally term old. We 
are not so charitable. We are likely to sneer 
when the choice of lovers does not meet our 
personal ideas of what is fitting. We refer 
to May and December when there is differ- 
ence of years. We are scornful concerning the 
lover with one foot in the grave, so to speak, 
and the other slipping. And, too, we are fond 
of saying: "Now, what can he see in her?" 
or: "What can she see in him?" The old 
Indian was more philosophical in his appre- 
ciation of variousness in mankind, for he 
[176] 



SAINT VALENTINE'S DAY 

thanked the Great Spirit that all red men were 
not as he, since in that case every other brave 
would have wanted his squaw. It might be 
well for us to copy after Saint Valentine in 
gentle tolerance of the foibles of other folks 
in their fancies. 

Let us give thanks to Saint Valentine. We 
need him. More power to his arm — to his 
brain. The lovers need him to smooth the 
way to marriage. They need him still more to 
smooth the way after they are married. Of 
old, romances wrote of a youth and a maiden, 
but ended the chronicle with the announce- 
ment: "Thus they were married and lived 
happy ever afterward. " Nowadays, the nov- 
elists begin with the marriage, and exploit 
their living unhappy ever afterward up to 
the divorce court. The modern romance de- 
lights in seizing on a couple old enough to 
know better, and making them do worse. 

I doubt not that this very day Saint Valen- 
tine is growing thin. It must be a strenuous 
time for him with grandmama bunny-hugging 
in the cabaret, and silly chits, of flapper age, 
[i77] 



SPEECHES 

but now so powdered and rouged and bobbed, 
with little time for lessons in their business 
of vamping Tom, Dick and Harry. Never- 
theless, though he may grow thin, Saint Val- 
entine will save the situation, will restore 
sound sense to his proteges. He will be able 
to do this because, in spite of all extrava- 
gances of the moment, the hearts of old and 
young alike are still sound. They are so sound 
that they will function normally, which means 
that lovers will continue to love deeply, to 
trust completely, to hope absurdly, to marry 
foolishly, to live wisely — perhaps to die con- 
tentedly. 
Hail blessed Saint Valentine! 



[178] 



GEORGE WASHINGTON'S BIRTH- 
DAY 

GEORGE WASHINGTON, the 
Father of Our Country. The 
term in itself is one of supreme 
honor, of love, of reverence. 
Every parent finds a personal satisfaction in 
the right achievement attained by his own 
offspring. In a sense, what is wrought by the 
children is the performance of the parents. 
The intimate relation that always exists be- 
tween parent and child is such that to claim 
it voluntarily is a final proof of deepest af- 
fection. It is thus that our nation has borne 
witness to its love for Washington. It has 
called him father. That designation is of 
itself full evidence of the veneration with 
which the citizens of these United States have 
always regarded, and do still regard, and will 
continue to regard, the man to whose saga- 
cious leadership they chiefly owe their being. 
[ 179] 



SPEECHES 

In his "Outline of History," the English 
writer, Wells, confines comment on Washing- 
ton to the statement that the man was lazy. 
Such an assertion smirches the reputation of 
Wells, not of Washington. Its absurdity is 
patent to any intelligent person — except Wells. 
George Washington was the Commander-in- 
Chief of our army during the Revolutionary 
War. The task imposed on him in this posi- 
tion was no light one. On the contrary, his 
duties imposed on him a burden sufficient to 
crush body, mind and spirit of any save the 
strongest. Here was no place for indolence. 
No lazy man could have marshaled our tat- 
tered and hungry troops to victory. The re- 
quirement was for a general against whom 
physical fatigue was powerless, whose mind 
was competent to devise a way out of the 
worst perils, whose spirit remained undaunted 
in every crisis. And afterward, as our Presi- 
dent, this man of destiny could still find no op- 
portunity for that ease of which the English 
writer has so curious a fancy. In that early 
period of our history, even as to-day, the 
[180] 



GEORGE WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY 

presidency offered of sinecure. The life of 
the Chief Executive day by day was of the 
fullest, with every moment of the waking 
hours occupied by the necessities of control 
for that great enterprise, a daring scheme of 
government new to the history of the world. 
Then, as now, the life of the President was 
one of arduous and unceasing toil. Back of 
all else, there was then, just as there is to-day, 
the strain of a tremendous responsibility. The 
head of our Government can never be a lazy 
man, nor ever could. 

Moreover, apart from the exigencies of the 
position itself, we must bear in mind the fact 
that the lazy man can never become the leader. 
Indolence cannot long disguise itself. The 
slothful individual is known as such to his 
fellows. It is inevitable that they should re- 
ject his guidance in the conduct of affairs. 
Even a political boss cannot be a lazy man. 
Were he such, he could never attain domi- 
nance over his party. Political control de- 
mands not only shrewdness, but also energy 
enough to be always busy. No more can the 
[181I 



SPEECHES 

statesman indulge a liking for idleness. 
Statesman and politician alike must be zeal- 
ous in action if they would attain their ends. 
It is safe to declare that no lazy man could 
ever be so much even as nominated for the 
office of President of the United States. 

As the parent finds pleasure in the great 
things accomplished by a child, so the spirit 
of the Father of Our Country must feel both 
joy and triumph, along with much wonder, 
over the progress of this nation; he may well 
find gratification in the development of the 
nation. Though our faults be many, our 
greatness cannot be denied. Washington 
guarded and led what was by comparison a 
handful of men dwelling in the wilderness. 
Those whom he set on the way have gone 
forward through the years resolutely; they 
have never faltered or turned back. They 
have fashioned the wilderness into a land of 
richness beyond any that the world has known. 
The remote settlements of a new world have 
grown to be the greatest power among all the 
nations of the earth. 

[182I 



GEORGE WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY 

There are millions in this land to-day where 
were scant thousands in the time of Washing- 
ton. But we can never be too many to do him 
honor. We are fabulously wealthy now where 
we were poverty-stricken in the time of Wash- 
ington, but we can never be too rich to remem- 
ber the beginnings of our prosperity, to 
remember the man that molded destiny in 
our behalf. 

George Washington the Father of Our 
Country. We, his children, are humbly grate- 
ful to his memory. 



[183] 



DECORATION DAY 

THIS is the day on which we assem- 
ble to bear witness that we remem- 
ber our dead. Those whom we 
thus now hold in memory have a 
claim upon our reverence that is of the 
strongest. Yet, this claim does not come 
from any kinship; it is not due to ties of 
blood ; it is not derived even from friendship ; 
it is not concerned with personal relationships. 
The claim issues from the fact that these dead 
gave the full strength of their manhood, gave 
their very lives even, for a righteous cause. 
They fought and died for the salvation of the 
nation in which we enjoy citizenship. It was 
their toil and torment and passing that upheld 
the Government in a time of mortal crisis, so 
that it has endured through the years, and 
stands to-day in splendid security. In great 
measure, if not indeed wholly, we owe these 
[ 184] 



DECORATION DAY 

dead heroes both the peacefulness and the 
power of these United States. 

It is well that the slow flight of the years 
lessens little by little and finally destroys the 
bitterness that must characterize partisan 
strife. To-day, we may declare with grateful 
pride that the heart of North and South is 
truly one part. There is no longer any spirit 
of battle between sections of our country. The 
old wounds have healed, a kindly Time has 
almost completely obliterated even the scars 
of former conflict. With our eyes open to a 
clearer vision, we of the one nation under- 
stand the honest valor of all who battled in 
the Civil War. It is easy now to understand the 
zeal of the North, so suddenly and so swiftly 
aroused against the practice of slavery, for 
slavery was not an institution in the North. 
There was nothing to offset full appreciation 
of the injustice wrought against the victims 
of such servitude. But we can understand 
equally the feeling of the South, where genera- 
tions of custom sanctioned the holding of 
slaves. We remember in justification of the 
[185] 



SPEECHES 

practice that throughout all the ages of his- 
tory slavery had been deemed a matter of 
course, not only by rudest savages, but as 
well by those peoples of highest culture. The 
development of a sense of justice in this regard 
developed only in modern times, and then very 
slowly. It is characteristic of human nature 
that those not directly concerned with the in- 
stitution were in every instance most ardent 
toward its abolition. In France, the extrava- 
gancies of the revolutionary spirit that cul- 
minated in the reign of terror in the closing 
years of the eighteenth century, included the 
freeing of the slaves in the French Colonial 
possessions. Here, we note again, that there 
was no slavery in France itself to serve as a 
check on the enthusiasts. Indeed, it is hardly 
a matter for pride to any lover of human 
progress, that the change so admirable in 
itself was, nevertheless, effected by fanatics 
who enthroned the guillotine, who exalted 
courtesans for the high altars in the churches, 
who dragged the Bible through the streets tied 
to the tail of an ass. The British freed their 
[186] 



DECORATION DAY 

slaves more slowly — happily, more sanely. It 
seems a pity that we could not have reached 
the right in this matter peacefully, without 
the horrors of a bloody war between brothers. 
Yet, there is a purifying of the spirit that 
comes forth out of the evils of strife. We must 
believe that such a baptism of blood is a sac- 
rament of regeneration for the nation. At 
least, we know that the individuals who fought 
and died were surely in some measure thus 
consecrated. These dead, in memory of whom 
we are gathered, are sacred to us. They will 
remain sacred to us so long as the generations 
honor the supreme virtues of manhood : valor 
and sacrifice. 



[187] 



FOURTH OF JULY 

THE Fourth of July is the anniver- 
sary that commemorates that day in 
1776 on which came into being 
the Declaration of Independence. 
It has won for itself the distinction of being 
known as "the day we celebrate." And 
fittingly, for the Fourth of July is not only 
our most joyous, but also our most sacred 
festival. It is the souvenir of the birth of our 
nation. It may be said of it jocularly that it 
is the occasion when we most enthusiastically 
twist the Lion's tail, and let the Eagle scream. 
It is the day when we are prone to boast of 
the triumph that our hardy ancestors won 
over the veteran troops of an empire, and to 
vaunt ourselves over the magnificent progress 
that has marked the change from the thirteen 
colonies to the greatest of world powers. It 
is, indeed, but just that we should thus exult 
over past prowess and present achievement. 
[188] 



FOURTH OF JULY 

The nation has accomplished stupendous 
things in the way of advancement, and we 
may take credit to those of our race who have 
here wrought a work so mighty and so endur- 
ing. 

Yet, the flight of the years has effected a 
radical change in our sentiment toward the 
country against the tyranny of which we 
fought. Every schoolboy to-day knows that 
the evils imposed on the Colonists were due 
to the rapacity of the monarch, not to the ill- 
will of the people, and that the best sentiment 
of English statesmen was bitterly opposed to 
the policies of King George toward the 
colonies of the crown. The English of that 
age realized, just as they realize now, that the 
war was a hideous blunder ; they understood 
the injustice of it. 

It was a flaming resentment against injus- 
tice that set burning the forces of the revo- 
lution in our Western World. Our fore- 
fathers were goaded to revolt by the unfair- 
ness with which they were treated by the 
Government overseas. Their protest was 
[189] 



SPEECHES 

against taxation without representation. That 
protest went from words to deeds, and its final 
provision is visible in the peace and power of 
this land to-day. The patriots of 1776 and 
those bitter years that followed did not take 
up arms in behalf of any theory : they battled 
to remedy unjust conditions imposed upon 
them by a despotic authority. Our warriors 
were not animated by hatred of the monarch- 
ical form of government, or by love for a 
democratic system. They were driven to 
rebellion by circumstances that menaced their 
well being unjustly; they dared the combat in 
behalf of their material rights. The men of 
that age, whether individuals of the common 
people, or their leaders, their statesmen, their 
generals, had no conception of democracy 
with the meaning given to the word to-day. 
But they understood fully the difference be- 
tween right and wrong, and they were willing 
to shed their blood, to give their lives to de- 
fend the right that was theirs. 

Our present development of democracy has 
been from a growth of exceeding slowness. 
[ 190] 



FOURTH OF JULY 

By reason of that slowness, the growth has 
been sure. Moreover, the tedious delay in 
advancement has made every gain infinitely 
precious; it has given the people opportunity 
to realize the exact advantage of every gain, 
and thus to appreciate with deepest grateful- 
ness each succeeding benefit. We of the 
Anglo-Saxon race have been studying for a 
thousand years the problems of a liberal gov- 
ernment and of individual rights. They have 
studied, and, too, they have struggled. There 
were wars in the British Isles, as well as the 
final war waged on this continent, and every 
battle was in some measure the march of a 
forward movement. 

The slowness of the process has given to 
us a development of character that tends to- 
ward making us worthy of the blessings that 
have been bestowed upon us. The priceless 
gain from all its struggles has been the growth 
of character. We of the race have striven for 
our liberties through many generations of 
struggle, and we have earned them. Because 
we have thus fought and thus difficultly ob- 
[191] 



SPEECHES 

tained, we understand our liberties. We do 
not merely perceive the superficial things that 
are represented by the law, or by the machin- 
ery of government, but we know the truth 
that lies beneath the surface, and is, in fact, 
the foundation on which our whole social 
structure is reared. We not only know this 
truth as a matter of intelligent perception, 
but we feel it — crystallized as a dominant 
sentiment from inherited experience. 

No other race of to-day has an inheritance 
so splendid. Within recent years, the island 
kingdom of the Japanese was opened to civil- 
ization. That race, with amazing adapt- 
ability, has taken to itself many of the strange 
things thus offered, but the effect is wholly 
superficial, if not altogether flimsy, at best 
merely material. The Japanese, however 
imitative they may be, have never lived 
through the ages of struggle to attain; their 
generations have not received the baptism of 
blood, liberty's sacrament. They may lay 
hold on the outward form ; they cannot pos- 
sess the inward and spiritual grace. 
[192] 



FOURTH OF JULY 

It is this inward and spiritual grace that is 
our glory. On this the day we celebrate, it is 
well to exult in the noble achievements of our 
race, of which this day is a triumphant symbol. 
But it is better still to feel within us a quicken- 
ing of the spirit — that spirit which burned 
so hotly within the bosoms of our patriot 
fathers. It is a spirit that must flame always 
to consume injustice, to destroy the dross that 
would hide or tarnish the right. It is the 
spirit that makes mighty for righteousness, 
that makes strong to battle not only for the 
rights of one's self, but with equal zeal for 
the rights of his fellows. 

The spirit of 1776. May it live ever in us, 
and in the generations that are to follow. 



[i93l 



LABOR DAY 

LABOR DAY is new on the calendar 
of annual festivals. Yet, though the 
organization of the workers into 
unions is of recent occurrence, the 
principle thus expressed has in certain phases 
been a factor throughout all the history 
of the world. Men everywhere and always 
have recognized the truth that in union there 
is strength. Essentially, every class has 
made constant effort to avail itself of those 
advantages afforded by the association of its 
members for purposes either defensive or 
offensive. Thus, to give an illustration from 
the top of the social structure, ruling sover- 
eigns have been wont to form alliances with 
other potentates for the sake of increased safety 
or power. Similarly, the ruling class of a 
nation was joined in a nobility that carried 
special privileges, and the whole class was 
[.194I 



LABOR DAY 

zealous against any infringement on their 
superior rank. Lower in the social scale were 
the guilds, which were actually groups of 
particular merchants or artisans. Even the 
apprentices were leagued together for the 
common good. The farmers, even, have not 
disdained such joining of their forces for mu- 
tual aid, and the granges have possessed a 
large measure of influence in the past; they 
remain of a definite importance in the present. 
Such banding together has by no means been 
limited to our Anglo-Saxon race: it has been 
a feature in the social constitution of all coun- 
tries, in all times. It has, perhaps, its most 
striking manifestation in the caste system of 
India. The Hindoo mixes the social status 
with religion. The whole population was 
classified in forgotten ages, so long ago that 
the sacred legions tell of how each separate 
class issued from a particular part of the God 
Bramah. That caste system has remained 
fixed through the centuries. Each native 
Hindoo is born into a caste from which he 
cannot escape, be he priest, or warrior, or 
[195] 



SPEECHES 

street-sweeper. The rules of his caste are 
absolute, to depart in any least degree from 
the rigid forms is mortal sin. The caste sys- 
tem of India represents all that is worst in 
the separation of a people into classes. It is 
an absolute bar to any high ambition among 
those of the inferior orders, since ascent to a 
nobler place in the social scale is not merely 
forbidden, it is wholly impossible. By con- 
trast, then, we realize the enormous advan- 
tages offered by a democracy to every indi- 
vidual. Here, the man born in the gutter may 
rise to the presidency of the nation, if the spirit 
of achievement within him be of sufficient 
power. There is no bar of the secular law 
or of religion. Labor in modern times has 
attained to intelligent understanding of its 
rights, of its dignity and of its power. It has 
won triumph in the vindication of its rights. 
It has proved its dignity. It has asserted its 
power. It is certain that labor will never 
revert to serfdom. The strength of labor has 
grown so great that there is no longer need to 
fear oppression. Indeed, it would seem that 
[196] 



LABOR DAY 

to-day the chief requirement is toward that 
sort of union which shall develop understand- 
ing and tolerance and sympathy between the 
various classes of the community. We have 
advanced so far in the development of our 
civilization that we ought to advance yet a 
little farther. Such progress would mean a 
near approach to absolute justice in the rela- 
tions of every class of our citizens with all 
other classes. The ideal is in truth absolute 
fairness, a perfect justice for every individual. 
The realization of that ideal means the abol- 
ishing of every special privilege, means even 
the actual elimination of classes as arbitrarily 
imposed by present conditions. 

It is the duty of the labor unions to exalt 
before the world the honor that inheres in hon- 
est toil. God never cursed labor. On the 
contrary, He blessed it in the beginning and 
sanctified it for all time. His own revelation 
declares that he worked in the infinite toil of 
creation, and found the work good. He set 
man in the garden, but with the task of caring 
for it. Christ, in the later revelation, repeats 
[197] 



SPEECHES 

the declaration that the Father is ever work- 
ing, and adds that He Himself, also, works. 
Man, made in the likeness of God, imitates the 
creator in his toil. And all work is creative. 
The sweeping of a room or the washing of 
dishes is truly creative work, for it brings or- 
der out of disorder, just as God fashioned the 
universe out of chaos. There is, indeed, a 
religious quality in all faithful service, in all 
honest industry. The old monks sang a hymn 
with the refrain, "Laborare est orare" — to 
labor is to pray. In spiritual worth, the hum- 
blest worker may be mighty. It will be well 
for us to keep in our hearts a thought of such 
spiritual values, since, at the last, these things 
only avail. The material passes, but the 
things of the spirit avail. 



[198] 



COLUMBUS DAY 

THE discoverer of our country did 
not give it his name, but his fame 
is none the less secure. The learned 
may tell us of some ancient Scan- 
dinavian navigator who came to these shores 
before the sailing of the ships sent forth by 
Ferdinand and Isabella, but we are not in the 
least interested. We honor Christopher 
Columbus as the man who made the continent 
known to the world, who by his discovery 
opened it to the European adventurers, with 
the result that it became a new world, a world 
of amazing vastness and more amazing fruit- 
fulness. Nor do we venerate the name of 
Columbus less from the fact that he was 
actually mistaken in his high project, and that 
accident, rather than design, made his voyag- 
ing a supreme achievement. 
We may well honor the man, since to him 
[199] 



SPEECHES 

directly and personally we owe the magnifi- 
cent treasure that is this country of ours. It is 
useless to declare that some other in the course 
of time must have done the work, had Colum- 
bus failed. The fact remains that Columbus 
was the discoverer. To him, then, all our 
gratitude and praise, our reverence as the 
agent under Providence for our well-being. 

It is, indeed, most astonishing to reflect on 
how the vast American continent remained a 
wilderness through all the ages of history. 
The races of men grew civilized in the old 
world, they exploited the arts and sciences, 
they developed agriculture and all natural re- 
sources, and believed with utmost sincerity 
that all the earth was theirs, and the fullness 
thereof. Yet, only a few thousand miles away 
from them across the ocean, there waited that 
other world, in which lay hidden all the riches 
of their own lands, and more. It was a virgin 
soil, endowed with incalculable treasures. 
Those dwelling there were only a few scat- 
tered savages. We know that in forgotten 
[200] 



COLUMBUS DAY 

ages a higher culture existed in certain re- 
gions, for there remain to our own day the 
massive ruins that are mute witness to the skill 
of those that builded them. But of that van- 
ished race we know nothing, though we may 
guess that through them survived on this con- 
tinent some part of the civilization claimed 
for the lost Atlantis. So far as we are con- 
cerned, however, the redmen were the only 
occupants, and they but few, of this enormous 
region. And these aboriginals left the land 
virgin, with all its wealth intact for the com- 
ing of the pioneers. What that wealth was is 
visibly suggested to us as we look about us at 
the splendor of our nation. Our knowledge of 
it grows if we look farther, to the wide and 
fertile reaches of Canada, to cities, mountains, 
valleys and plains of the tremendous areas we 
group under the names Central and South 
America. 

Honor, then, to Christopher Columbus, 
agent of destiny to bestow on mankind the 
glories of a new world. 

[201] 



THANKSGIVING DAY 

THIS day had its beginning among a 
pious people, who, in a strange 
new world, amid the perils of a 
wilderness and menaced by sav- 
ages, obtained the necessities of life by stern- 
est toil, yet, in devout worship of God, felt 
the obligation upon them to set apart a 
certain season for fasting and prayer and 
thanksgiving to a Providence so merciful. 
We of to-day, who dwell so much more softly 
amid the plenty rendered by a fruitful earth, 
could hardly endure such rigors as were im- 
posed by the circumstances of time and place 
upon the Pilgrim Fathers. Such trials as 
those they underwent would sorely tax our 
faith, might even lead us into bitter repining 
against the divine discipline, rather than to a 
humble gratitude. 

The Pilgrims were sustained through every 
[ 202 ] 



THANKSGIVING DAY 

trouble by a profound religious fervor. It 
was for peace of conscience that they made 
themselves exiles from their native land. 
They sought a place, no matter how difficult 
and dangerous, where they might exercise 
their right to worship according to their con- 
viction. It was natural, then, that such men 
and women should mark the rounding of the 
year with special service of praise to the Deity 
who had preserved them. They made this 
season one for earnest communion with God, 
a time for spiritual exaltation. So, they mor- 
tified the flesh, and strict fasting left a larger 
liberty for the soul's exercise. 

We have traveled far from the conception 
in which this anniversary had its beginning. 
For us of the present generation, it is, to a 
large extent, just a holiday, a time for pleas- 
ure, in games or other sports, or in social re- 
unions and assemblies, and for feasting. The 
official proclamations of the day still empha- 
size its sacred character. The churches still 
maintain special services where the religious- 
minded may meet together with something of 
[203] 



SPEECHES 

the old-time sentiment of praise for the good- 
ness of God. But it must be confessed that 
most of our citizenry gives small heed to-day 
to holy things, but is rather concerned with 
merry-making, each according to his individ- 
ual bent. The day is esteemed as one of jol- 
lity. None dreams of fasting. Instead, the 
time is one notoriously for feasting. 

There is, in fact, no harm in our rejoic- 
ing. On the contrary, it is well that we should 
be glad in the midst of a plenty that in these 
later days is the marvel and the envy of a 
stricken world. It is, indeed, seemly to re- 
joice in the realization of our manifold 
blessings. Nor is it unfitting, as the pilgrims 
themselves soon came to realize, to spread our 
tables with that generous profusion made 
possible by a kindly Providence. But, along 
with these our modern methods in which we 
indulge so easily and so zealously, it would be 
well for our souls' sake to remember the exact 
significance of this day to those from whom 
we have derived it. It would be well for us, 
like them, to make the time one for a closer 
[204] 



THANKSGIVING DAY 

communion with the divine source of our well- 
being. It would be well for us to emulate the 
Pilgrim Fathers in their humility of Thanks- 
giving, in their realization that their every 
achievement was made possible and sanctified 
by the blessing of God. We may believe the 
God of the Pilgrims more kindly and more 
tolerant than they deemed Him. But He is 
still our God, and it is for us a most solemn 
duty in the midst of our prosperity to remem- 
ber always and especially on this day, that He 
is the source of abundance, and that His bless- 
ing gives us the strength to harvest His bounty. 
Let us hold in our consciousness the name of 
this holiday, and make of it, truly and rever- 
ently, a day of thanksgiving. 



[205] 



CHRISTMAS 

IT is the strength and the glory of our 
Christian religion that it centers about a 
personal Saviour. The personality of 
Christ is the magnet that draws sinners 
to repentance and knowledge of salvation. 
There is a marvelous power of appeal in the 
fact that Christ, in spite of His divine nature, 
was in very truth a man like unto us. It is 
for this reason that we turn to him in full con- 
fidence, knowing that He understands our 
every mood, that he sympathizes with our 
every feeling, ready always to offer the com- 
fort of an infinite tenderness. 

It is because of this personal quality in the 
Redeemer that our religion makes so great 
a festival of the birth of Jesus. The Babe in 
the manger exercises a holy spell over the 
meditations of the devout, and this spell suf- 
fers no lessening with the lapse of the years — 
for its strength is drawn from the personal 
[206] 



CHRISTMAS 

relation of each of us with this Divine Being 
made flesh for the redemption of the world. 
There is, too, in this celebration something of 
the simplicity and joyousness that belongs to 
childhood. It is thus that we cultivate es- 
pecially the spirit of good will that is sym- 
bolized by the giving of gifts, and especially 
we distinguish the festival by making it the 
day of days for the children. It is now that 
we seek to fill full their cup of gladness, and, 
in so doing, we join with them so earnestly 
as to renew in some measure our own youth- 
fulness. There sounds very distinctly in our 
hearts to-day the words of Christ: "Suffer 
the little ones to come unto me, for of such is 
the kingdom of heaven." 

We of our religion are wonderfully blessed. 
Our faith has a warmth in the relation be- 
tween God and man that the other great reli- 
gions have lacked. Every false faith has owed 
its power to a truth. But a truth becomes es- 
sentially error when it is overemphasized ; it 
becomes distorted, in effect untruth. And to 
a large extent pagan beliefs have suffered 
[207] 



SPEECHES 

from a mingling of the grossly material with 
the spiritual. Thus, the Moslem faith, which 
had its power in the cry that God is one God, 
nevertheless offers as reward to the devout 
Mussulman a paradise with harems in which 
waited bevies of houris of supreme loveliness. 
In truth, the lures of passion have trailed 
through most of the world's religions in the 
past, and they remain potent still. Buddha 
escaped this taint in his teaching, because it 
was his ambition to preach a gospel of hope 
to those that had been hopeless. He proffered 
comfort in the assurance that every soul could 
at the last attain to Nirvana — to annihilation, 
to nothingness. 

How different are the purity and the hap- 
piness to be found in our Christian faith. It 
is significant that the greatest and noblest men 
and women known to history have been loyal 
followers of the Nazarene. It is significant, 
as well that the greatest minds before our era 
approximated closely to the teaching of Jesus. 
Our religion suffices every need. It is so sim- 
ple that the most lowly is able easily to lay 
[208] 



CHRISTMAS 

hold on its salvation. It is so profound, so 
complete, that it answers every demand of the 
highest intelligence, of the most eager heart. 
It is not for us now to concern ourselves with 
doctrine. Indeed, we may safely leave doc- 
trine at all times to the schools. The vital 
truth is that Christianity is a life. By com- 
parison, doctrines count for little. The 
essential is that one should follow the Christ, 
that he should, even though afar, live to the 
best of his ability the life of Christ. And, 
in so doing there is no inconsistency to-day 
when we become glad, like unto the little ones. 
To young and old, to each and every one, 
a merry, a merry Christmas. 



[209] 



ENGAGEMENT 

ALL the world loves a lover. 
Since this is true, it follows that 
everyone is doubly fond of two 
lovers. And justly so, when they 
have plighted their troth, and behold in all 
the universe only a background for their own 
exquisite happiness. We others, who are 
more prosaic, share in their gladness. Per- 
haps we are a little touched with envy toward 
these lovers to whom a drab world has become 
as heaven. 

Yet, not quite as heaven. For in heaven 
there is neither marrying nor giving in mar- 
riage. That, doubtless, is why, as Poe sings, 
the angels in heaven went envying his love 
for his Annabel Lee. Poor things, to witness 
such joy that can never be for them. 

We sometimes smile a little over the rap- 
tures of lovers, and think of them as living in 
[210] 



ENGAGEMENT 

a realm of dream. But theirs is, after all, 
the supreme reality. For love is life, accord- 
ing to the divine ordering of things. In His 
last revelation of Himself, God has declared 
that He is love, and God is all in all; in Him 
we live and move and have our being. So, 
then, there can be no true life outside of love. 

And again, God has told us that it is not 
good for man to live alone. Here, there is 
no conflict between religion and science, be- 
tween rich and poor, between foolish and wise, 
between nature and civilization. All unite to 
recognize this necessity of the mating of youth 
and maiden ; all unite to recognize that only 
in such mating is to be found the fullness of 
life. 

May that Providence which is itself the 
Spirit of Love bless these lovers. 



[211] 



RESPONSE OF FIANCE 

WE had both thought that our 
happiness was complete. But 
now we realize that it needed 
to make it perfect just what 
you have given to us — your sympathy with 
our joy, your good wishes for our future, your 
kindly affection at this time toward us. For 
myself, I cannot claim to deserve what I have 
won. It is my hope that a generous Provi- 
dence will help me, will strengthen me to 
make the life happiness of her who has so 
honored me. 

And, again, our most grateful thanks and 
appreciation of your goodness to us. 



[212] 



WEDDING 

THERE are three great crises in life. 
The first is birth, the last is death; 
between the two — in many cases a 
number of times between the two — 
comes marriage. In the matter of birth, no 
one has any choice at all; in the matter 
of death, it is rarely that one is permitted 
to consult his own preference, unless he 
chooses suicide. But in the matter of mar- 
riage it is the general belief that the high con- 
tracting parties have liberty of choice. If this 
is not always so, it usually seems so, which 
does quite as well. The important truth is 
that marriage, with its freedom of selection 
to the individual, is a tremendous responsibil- 
ity, and, it must be accepted as one's own. 
Right choice is vital to a life of happiness. 
Here, to-day, we may believe that the two 
principals have chosen wisely, and that hap- 
[213] 



SPEECHES 

piness in the wedded state will be their por- 
tion. 

The humorous are fond of domestic difficul- 
ties, which offer an endless supply of amusing 
situations. That is to say, the trouble between 
husband and wife is often of a sort to make 
onlookers laugh, though it is deadly serious to 
the unhappily married pair. The fun- 
maker's point of view is well illustrated by 
the shortest joke on record, when Punch used 
as headline: 

"Advice to Those About to be Married." 

And under this the single word : 

"Don't." 

There is no end to this sort of jesting, which 
is entertaining enough to everyone not directly 
concerned. A constant victim of the para- 
graphers is the mother-in-law, as in the quip : 

"What is the penalty for bigamy?" 

And the reply: 

"Two mothers-in-law." 

In a serious consideration of marriage, we 
are confronted with the inevitable fact that 
marriage means disillusionment. Lovers look 
[214] 



WEDDING 

on the world through rose-colored spectacles, 
which they by no means take off when they 
look at each other. It might be remarked in 
passing that Cupid himself sometimes wears 
blinders. But after marriage, the rose fades 
out of the spectacles, or they are laid aside 
altogether. The lovers then look on each other 
with new and clearer vision. Blessed are those 
that behold charms hitherto unsuspected, a 
loveliness deeper and more enduring than that 
seen under love's glamour. 

It is true that disillusionment may be a 
melancholy thing. But it should be, and 
oftenest is, a progression from fancy to fact 
in which comes a realization of worth-while 
qualities that make possible life in its fullness. 
There are various types of the married pair. 
There is the couple in which one is tyrant, 
the other slave. Such may be miserable or 
very happy. The law's theory until recent 
times was that the man rules as a despot, that 
the wife was merely a chattel. But human 
nature is various, and many a woman, long 
before there was any word of her equal rights, 
[215] 



SPEECHES 

ruled her husband, whether by the violence 
of the shrew, or by the subtle wiles of the 
clinging vine. But the ideal marriage has de- 
veloped a true equality of rights between man 
and wife, in which the balance is not ob- 
tained by demand and contention, rather by 
tolerance, by some sacrifice of self, by appre- 
ciation of the rights of another, by a profound 
mutual sympathy and by that community of 
interests which is a powerful bond. When 
the surgeon at a hospital in the East End of 
London had finished dressing the cuts and 
bruises on the head of a woman patient, he 
asked sympathetically: 

"Who treated you so shockingly? Was it 
your husband?" 

"Lor* love yer, no, sir. W'y, sir, my 
'usband, Vs more like a friend nor a 'usband." 

In the humor of that answer lies a truth of 
vast value. Lovers need not cease to be lovers, 
but they must grow to be friends. They need 
to become pals, in the best meaning, of the 
word. Their union must become so wonder- 
ful and so complete that it shall include every 
[216] 



WEDDING 

varied feature of their lives. It is thus that 
early ardor broadens and deepens into a love 
that permeates the whole life of both man and 
wife, and makes of their twain lives a unity. 



[217] 



WEDDING 

(Bride's Father) 

ONE of the highest of human pleas- 
ures is that of a parent in a child. 
And by so much as this relation- 
ship is capable of giving joy, 
so, too, it is sometimes the cause of suffering, 
and it is always a responsibility that must not 
be evaded. The delight of parents in a child 
is, in the natural order of things, tempered 
by the fact that as the child passes from adoles- 
cence to maturity, separation from the par- 
ents becomes necessitated by the circumstances 
of life. The son goes out from the parental 
roof tree to mingle with his fellows and to 
compete with them in business affairs. The 
old home knows him no more except as a 
visitor. In the new manner to which the pres- 
ent generation is rapidly becoming accus- 
[218] 



WEDDING 

tomed, the daughter, as well, may choose to 
pursue her individual career in trade or in 
the arts or in a profession. But, usually, the 
girl yields to her natural destiny as a woman 
by yielding to the pleas of a suitor, by enter- 
ing into the marriage state. It is this com- 
plete change in her life and status that so pro- 
foundly affects the parents. The new sphere 
of activity in which she moves is so full and 
so complete that it must surely engage her 
attention and her energies almost entirely to 
the exclusion of former interests. The par- 
ents, while they accept as resignedly as they 
may the new order, nevertheless cannot re- 
strain themselves from sorrow over their loss. 
They seek compensation in satisfaction over 
her choice of a mate, in appreciation of the 
sterling qualities that belong to their daugh- 
ter's husband. They feel that her future under 
his care shows every prospect for a success- 
ful, a contented and a happy life. Their pain 
over their loss at this moment is mitigated in 
some degree by their gain of a son thus given 
to them. And, throughout all the days to 
[219] 



SPEECHES 

come, these two newly united shall have with 
them the love and tenderness of another 
wedded pair — the mother and the father of 
this girl, their beloved daughter. 



[220] 



WEDDING 

(Groom) 

I HAVE already made one speech to-day. 
So has Mrs. , though she wasn't the 
Missus then. We think those speeches 
of ours were better than the grandest 
orations in the Senate of the United States. 
Anyhow they mean more to us — along with 
what the minister said right afterward. 
Everyone knows that no man is worthy of a 
good woman. I know that I do not deserve 
the best of women, though IVe won her. I 
can only try my best to make her happy, so 
that she shall never regret her choice. We 
know that we have your wishes for our happi- 
ness, and we are grateful to you. 



[221] 



WEDDING ANNIVERSARY 

(Husband) 

GETTING married is a big thing, 
though it is so easy. Staying mar- 
ried is a bigger thing, and it is not 
so easy. Staying married happily 
is the biggest thing of all, and it is the hard- 
est. But it is the thing that makes everything 
else in life comparatively easy. Love is a 
splendid thing in itself, and it is essential to 
any happiness in the married state. Yet love 
is often blind, and this fact is not a bit altered 
in the case of marriage. But, for happiness in 
wedlock, love cannot stay blind. Married 
lovers must have their eyes very wide open, 
indeed, and see all the actualities of their con- 
dition with unblinking clearness of vision. 
Now, this means that they must see the truth 
not only as to each other, but also as to them- 
selves. For matrimony imposes adjustments 
[ 222 ] 



WEDDING ANNIVERSARY 

in the way of living. Each of the pair must 
accommodate himself or herself for the sake 
of an harmonious union. It is necessary, if 
trouble is to be avoided, that personal self- 
sacrifice should be imposed by the one whose 
individual preference is thus given up. It 
should be voluntary. When it is compelled 
by the other's criticism or command or tear- 
ful prayers the result is surely trouble. When 
there is love, along with the spirit of tolerance 
and sympathy, happiness in marriage is sure. 
Under such conditions, disagreements within 
reasonable bonds do but give spice to the fam- 
ily fare. But bitter recrimination makes the 
m6nu just one plateful of mustard. 

My wife and I are to-day as happy as we 
were on our wedding day — happier in a 
sense. For, if we lack here and now the ad- 
venturous thrill of rapture that belongs to 
lovers newly wed, we have in place of it a 
substantial joy in the knowledge that we have 
tested our affection, and have found it true and 
abiding. We have gathered from the expe- 
rience of our years together both peace and 
[223] 



SPEECHES 

pleasure beyond anything of our early dream- 
ing, and we know that our content in the past 
is, as well, assurance for the future. 

Not least among the good things with which 
Providence has blessed us are the friends, so 
many of whom have assembled in a spirit of 
kindliness on this occasion. Our hearts go out 
to them in grateful recognition of all that their 
affection and companionship have meant to us 
in the past, and for all they may still mean in 
the days to come. 



[224] 



WEDDING ANNIVERSARY 

(Guest) 

ONE of the disadvantages of our 
present age is that we know too 
much. Not of what is good for us, 
but what is bad for us. The 
newspapers are splendid things, but they cer- 
tainly are wonderful scavengers. Trouble is 
news, and they're after it all the time, and 
they surely get it. They print it under start- 
ling headlines, and we read it. One kind of 
trouble in which they most delight is the do- 
mestic. Anything of the sort that leads to the 
divorce court is beloved space-filling stuff for 
the papers. And we read it all. Naturally, 
the amount of that kind of thing which we read 
molds our opinion, makes us cynical, pessi- 
mistic. Then, too, there are the humorous, to 
whom every married pair is Mr. and Mrs. 
Nag, or Wrangle, or Jarr. We acquire a 
[225] 



SPEECHES 

habit of thinking of any married couple as 
hypocritical deceivers or cantankerous scrap- 
pers, or the like. It is, then, with something 
of astonishment that we consider an example 
such as this pair whom we are met together to 
honor. For, they in their persons and in their 
life of union present an example of just those 
things that have no news value for the news- 
papers, and so are never exploited in the col- 
umns of the press. They are such things, too, 
as make no appeal to the professional humorist 
as material for his jokes. Yet, these things 
are the things worth while, and when we con- 
sider them, we recognize their worth, we es- 
teem them as precious. This married couple 
presents in the community a wholesome exam- 
ple. They are very human and very lovable, 
and we have all been drawn to them by per- 
sonal qualities that have commanded both 
respect and liking. But, beyond such individ- 
ual characteristics, there exists another power 
of appeal to our admiration in the fact that 
their union displays the ideal of marriage real- 
ized. Their home life is not merely decent 
[226] 



WEDDING ANNIVERSARY 

and respectable, not merely virtuous even. It 
is all these, but it is also something vastly more 
important, something nobler and finer. It is a 
home life that is warmed and made beautiful 
by love and tenderness. It is a home life il- 
luminated by a radiance of spirit that shines 
forth to brighten all life round about. The 
life of these two, and its worth, is not to them 
alone. It is an agent for good in the com- 
munity. It touches each of us, and inspires 
us to higher aspiration, to a new confidence 
in ourselves and in our fellows. 



[227] 



PRESENTATION OF A TROPHY 

IT is my agreeable task to act in behalf of 
my fellows as spokesman in the presenta- 
tion of this trophy to him who has won it 
by his unusual skill in the game. The 
trophy itself is a beautiful thing, but it has a 
beauty deeper than that which appeals to the 
eye alone. It is, indeed, a symbol; it is an 
outward, material sign of an inward grace. 
It is actually a proof as to our recognition of 
the sportsmanlike qualities of its recipient. 
It bears witness not only to dexterity in the 
playing of a game, but also to the character 
of its winner as a man who plays the game 
fairly, according to the best traditions of the 
pastime. 

In the association of individuals for sport, 
their mettle is well tried. The intimacy of 
the relation is such as to test character with 
peculiar exactness. Because of the interest 
aroused by such contests of skill, the emotions 
[228] 



PRESENTATION OF A TROPHY 

of the players are stirred to great activity* 
Each contestant wishes to win, he desires suc- 
cess, and strives for it eagerly. He is likely to 
be dismayed by his errors, to be exultant over 
his skillful plays, A victory thrills him with 
pleasure, a defeat fills him with dejection. 
But the sporting spirit compels him to restrain 
his natural feeling, whether of joy or of cha- 
grin, so that he shall not in conquering be- 
come a braggart, or in defeat a grouch. It 
is this sporting spirit that gives to games 
rightly played their value among men, not 
merely as a means of recreation, but as a most 
valuable training of the character. The quali- 
ties that render a player popular among his 
fellow players, are just those qualities calcu- 
lated to make him popular among his asso- 
ciates in the world at large. Moreover, the 
qualities that enable him to achieve a triumph 
in the combat of skill in the game are exactly 
those qualities which are likely to secure his 
success in the larger struggle of professional 
or business affairs. 

So, in presenting this trophy, we offer to its 
[229] 



SPEECHES 

winner not alone a material evidence of his 
prowess, in the sport, but also a proof of his 
sterling excellence, and, further, a witness of 
the friendly regard and admiration borne to- 
ward him by his fellows. 



[230] 



ACCEPTANCE OF A TROPHY 

¥T is with deep pleasure that I receive this 
trophy. I need not deny that in the pleas- 
ure there is more than a little pride. 
Ml Learned men tell us that there is always 
pleasure in the exercise of faculty. It is for 
that reason that skill in any pursuit gives its 
owner a special and constant satisfaction. 
This is true either for work or for play, and it 
is equally true whether the particular task be 
of the highest or of the humblest. The car- 
penter who can handle a tool deftly has an 
agreeable pride in his accomplishment that 
tends to make labor pleasant. The woman 
who can make a bed perfectly finds a distinct 
sense of well-being in the exercise of her art* 
There is no difference in the degree, between 
carpenter or housewife and the genius who 
creates an epic or the statesman who molds the 
[231] 



SPEECHES 

destiny of a nation. In sport, this exercise of 
faculty is the source of a pleasure that con- 
tinues without any weariness in repetition. 
Bad playing causes chagrin, but it is the spur 
to that persistent effort which brings improve- 
ment and at last the keen joy of accom- 
plishment. 

For my own part, I have earned some meas- 
ure of success by hard work, but I humbly 
accept good fortune as a big factor in the final 
victory. And my best fortune, after all, is that 
I may regard this trophy not so much as the 
memorial of my success in the game, but rather 
as a tribute to the sporting spirit of my fel- 
lows, of which I am the happy recipient 



[232] 



ADDRESS OF WELCOME 

(To a Personage) 

IT is our pleasure on this occasion to re- 
ceive among us a personage of special dis- 
tinction. His presence with us is indeed 
an honor that we keenly appreciate. It 
is possible, even probable, that oftentimes a 
person who does much and amounts to much 
in the world feels that honest and unselfish 
endeavor is little appreciated. It is for this 
reason that I wish now to emphasize the fact 
that the work accomplished by our guest is 
not only known to us, but is, too, honored by 
us. It has been of such a character as to tax 
the strength of both body and mind, and the 
strength as well of the spirit. In that triple 
strength has lain the secret of his success — 
that success which we so greatly esteem, for 
which we and countless of our fellows are 
grateful. 

[233] 



SPEECHES 

The success to which our guest has attained 
was in no wise due to luck, though we may 
believe that Providence has given him power. 
It has been a success founded on the solid rock 
of integrity, and built up with painstaking 
care out of the products of a brilliant brain 
and a generous heart. That sort of success 
is of worth to the world. In the balance of 
spiritual things, it is true that as one gives, so 
he receives. This man has given greatly out 
of his abundance, and so, too, he has received 
in corresponding measure. Thus it is that as 
he has worked so mightily and has accom- 
plished so splendidly, he has developed a per- 
sonality in which we realize true greatness. 

We offer him with fitting humility our wel- 
come, in the hope that its sincerity may give 
him pleasure. 



[234] 



RESPONSE 

HUMILITY is for me, rather than 
for those who welcomed me with 
a kindness that touches me deeply. 
It is pleasant, indeed, for one to 
feel that he is appreciated. But, to one who 
searches his own soul, sincere praise is some- 
thing to render him humble, even while it 
stirs his pride. For, as one comes to see 
clearly, he must realize ever more fully how 
far short he falls in the accomplishment of 
his ideals. It is thus that the honors paid him, 
while they flatter, force him to recognize how 
little they are deserved. But they are none 
the less a help. They are an incentive always 
to new and better endeavor. The words that 
have just been spoken as representative of the 
spirit of this assembly toward me shall remain 
as something very dear in memory. And not 
[235] 



SPEECHES 

only as something dear, but also as something 
with a vital quality of its own to increase my 
strength for new and better labors. 



[236] 



WELCOME 

(To One Returning) 

WE of this community feel a par- 
ticular pleasure in welcoming 
among us our guest here, who 
is, in fact, one of us by birth 
and by the years lived with us. He went out 
from among us to engage in his activities in a 
broader field of endeavor. He comes to visit 
us for old time's sake, to renew past friend- 
ships, to refresh himself both physically and 
in the spirit with the breath of his native air. 
Whatever changes he may find here are 
chiefly of a superficial sort. The sentiment 
and the life of our neighborhood remain es- 
sentially unchanged, even though we pride 
ourselves on a progressive spirit which shows 
clearly and proudly in many aspects. Un- 
changed, indeed, is our feeling of respect and 
[237] 



SPEECHES 

friendship toward this guest whom we still 
count as one of ourselves. 

It is true that when he departed from us 
he nevertheless took with him the spirit of the 
community. There is, in fact, in every com- 
munity its own distinctive life, its individual 
manner of thought and feeling. One reared 
within such an atmosphere is inevitably in- 
fluenced by it. He is, in very definite ways, 
molded by his environment. Thus, always, 
there are traits of character that mark the gen- 
erality of residence in any region. So, of our 
guest: We may believe that he has carried 
with him out into the world something in his 
manhood that has the quality of our life. We 
dare to claim to our credit some part in the 
success achieved by him in an honorable 
career. Though separated from us, he has 
remained in some measure a part of us, so 
that we feel a degree of gratification and pride 
in his achievement. 

Beyond this communal appreciation of our 
guest, we feel toward him a deeper and nobler 
emotion, one that is surely personal — endur- 
[238] 



WELCOME 

ing friendship. It is this feeling of friendly 
affection that I now voice in behalf of this 
community toward him whom we are here 
met to honor. 



[239] 



RESPONSE 

THIS welcome from you means much 
to me. Ambition may send one 
from home to seek his fortune 
among strangers, but affection is 
always tugging at his heartstrings to bring 
him back again. Somehow, the old things 
and the old friends have a power that rests 
unweakened through all the years. In the 
press of affairs, it may be thrust back out 
of consciousness, its urge may be resisted, but 
always it remains a living force, so that, when 
the opportunity comes, it surely drives one to 
return. Here, as I find myself again with you 
amid scenes so familiar and so dear, I expe- 
rience a joy and a peace that are new and very 
precious. There is, of course, sadness — over 
the passing on of loved ones, yet this feeling 
does but emphasize and refine the sentiments 
[240] 



RESPONSE 

so keenly felt. To me, this return is truly a 
coming home. The place itself seems won- 
derfully friendly to me, and the people seem 
more wonderfully friendly still. I am grate- 
ful to Providence that has at last brought me 
home again. I am grateful as well to kindly 
friends and neighbors who make me realize 
the blessed fact that this is truly home. 



[241] 



FAMILY REUNION 

FAMILY pride is one of the common- 
est of human failings; it is one of the 
commonest of human virtues. Some- 
times, as in the case of the Chinese, 
the worship of the ancestors is made a religion. 
Over against this there is the instance of a 
great general who rose from peasant stock, 
who, when twitted on his humble origin by 
some sprig of nobility boasting a long line of 
titled ancestors, declared grimly: 
"I myself am the ancestor." 
Family pride is a vice when the pride is 
in vicious things. There have been families 
that boasted of a frightful temper; others 
that bragged of being spendthrifts; and so 
on. Examples are not far to seek in any com- 
munity. Often, heredity has little if anything 
to do with the curse of drinking or gambling 
[242] 



FAMILY REUNION 

or loose living of any sort. Instead, the evil 
is more likely to be the product of example 
along with the powerful suggestions from 
family tradition. 

Family pride is a virtue when it inspires 
virtue. When one knows that he is born of 
good stock, he has the right to a feeling of 
self-respect due to just that single fact. He 
may properly congratulate himself on having 
as forebears men and women of a wholesome 
sort, possessed of both intelligence, industry 
and integrity. Whatever may be the disputes 
of the learned as to the extent of the influence 
of heredity on the human mind and character, 
we know for a certainty that qualities are 
definitely transmitted in families, that ability 
and merit run with the blood just as surely as 
do form and features for the body. And here, 
again, just as in the case of the vices, the vir- 
tues of a family are nourished and strength- 
ened and made effective by constant sugges- 
tion from the family tradition. The family 
pride in its worth becomes itself a spur to 
emulation, an incentive to equal, even to sur- 
[243] 



SPEECHES 

pass, in his own person, the virtues of those 
from whom he has derived his being. 

Nevertheless, at this point, it is needful for 
us to note that family pride becomes a peril 
to the individual character when it induces 
self-complacency without any stimulus toward 
personal activity. Such pride becomes a curse 
to one who esteems himself great or worthy 
merely because his ancestors were great or 
worthy. Such a person is a parasite for whose 
existence there is no excuse. Family pride, 
if it is to be tolerated, must be an energizing 
force, by which one is compelled to achieve 
according to the utmost of his powers. He 
must vindicate by his own worth his right to 
pride in a worthy ancestor. Otherwise, their 
worthiness must become his shame. 

For ourselves, we have reason doubly to re- 
joice. Our family in the past has accom- 
plished much to make it respected and distin- 
guished among men, and those of this genera- 
tion have not been found wanting. On the 
contrary, our men and women of to-day in 
their various fields of activity are demonstrat- 
[244] 



FAMILY REUNION 

ing anew those sterling qualities of our race 
that have made it honorable in the past. 

All honor to our tribe! And may we and 
those to follow us be worthy! May our deeds 
and lives add to its renown! 

Hail to the name of ! 



[245] 



COMMENCEMENT 

THERE is always a profound inter- 
est that attaches to this occasion. 
Commencement day, whether of 
school or college, is a milepost 
that marks a definite stage of the journey 
through life. It indicates the conclusion of a 
certain cycle in the individual existence and 
the beginning of another cycle. It denotes 
the ending of a course of preparation and the 
readiness for undertaking new activities. It 
is especially a time for triumphant anticipa- 
tions. Study and training are by no means 
always pleasant. They are sometimes tedious 
and toilsome. But, as a whole, the years of 
making ready are pleasant, and the pleasure 
that belongs to them is made keen by the spirit 
of youth. That the period of learning is for 
the most part agreeable is fortunate indeed, 
[246] 



COMMENCEMENT 

since it is absolutely necessary to the well- 
being of the individual. The learning thus 
acquired is of exceeding value. We of to-day, 
with our familiarity, as to matters of educa- 
tion, are likely to fail somewhat in appreciat- 
ing how great this boon is. In past ages, 
learning was limited to the very few, and even 
then was meager and inaccurate almost be- 
yond our power of conception. Moreover, 
learning is by no means broadcast throughout 
the world to-day. Only comparatively a small 
number of the nations give universal school- 
ing to their citizens. I speak of these things 
in the hope of arousing in you a real gratitude 
toward that Providence which has set you in 
a time and place of so great privileges. Some- 
times, doubtless, you have felt rebellious 
against the monotony of routine tasks. But 
such feeling was the mood of a moment, a fit- 
ting annoyance. Over against it you have the 
proud consciousness of an educated intelli- 
gence. You have benefited by a blessing that 
is the very crown of our civilization. It is for 
you to prove your appreciation of that bless- 
[247] 



SPEECHES 

ing by the use you shall make of it in the days 
to come. It is my hope for each of you that 
in the living of your lives you may justify and 
realize the happy anticipations that make glad 
this hour. 



[248] 



BIRTHDAY 

OUR forefathers had a pleasant cus- 
tom of laying down a special bin 
of wine when an heir was born, so 
that the time-mellowed beverage 
should be ready for the drinking of his health 
on his coming of age. While still an infant, 
he might be nominated for membership in a 
club where the waiting list was long, in order 
that he might be sure of its privileges on at- 
taining his majority. In the case of royalty 
the queens giving birth to a son as heir to the 
throne has always been an occasion for a 
nation-wide festival. What with Volstead, 
the unpopularity of royalty and our own sta- 
tion in life, the first birthday fails to stir the 
country as a whole to rejoicing. Nevertheless 
though without embellishments, a birthday of 
itself is the most important thing that can hap- 
pen to anyone. So far as our limited knowl- 
[249] 



SPEECHES 

edge goes it is the beginning of life, and life 
is the greatest of possessions, that possession 
on which all else is conditioned. 

As it is the chief boon, so life is also the 
chief mystery. None, not even the wisest, 
knows aught of its ultimate sorts. Haeckel 
declared that the secret of life must forever 
elude the searching of science. We may learn 
much of physics and of chemistry and of the 
constitution of matter, but we cannot penetrate 
beyond the veil. Nor need we. It is enough 
for us that this treasure is bestowed upon us, 
that to us is given the use of it for the develop- 
ment of ourselves, for the growth of charac- 
ter. Along with the mysterious gift, there 
comes to us as well a companion mystery, the 
conscience, which, from its high place within 
the soul, seeks to guide toward righteousness 
the life of each of us. 

As one comes to maturity, the anniversary 
of birth is likely to prove a day for self-reck- 
oning. As one year of life ends, and another 
begins, it is natural to review the immediate 
past, perhaps, too, the years more remote, to 
[250] 






BIRTHDAY 

study them in an effort to understand wherein 
the life has been right, wherein it has been 
wrong, and, along with this, to resolve for the 
future toward betterment. 

It is not necessary that life should be all 
happiness. On the contrary, it seems sure that 
man must struggle in order to grow strong, 
and this is true not merely as to the physical 
life, but in even greater measure as to the mind 
and the spirit. The poet has rightly said, 
"Sweet are the uses of adversity." Nobility 
of character is born of suffering. The test of 
greatness is its strength to overcome the evil 
of circumstances. It is just here that we 
should be glad that destiny has given us a re- 
ligion of hope. We are not promised final 
annihilation, as are the Buddhists, whose con- 
ditions of life were so hard that to be done 
with living seemed the supreme blessing. We 
are born to a land and an age that offers us full- 
ness of life here, and to a religion that prom- 
ises us something infinitely better for the life 
to come. 

Mrs. Eddy is on record in disapprobation of 
[251] 



SPEECHES 

all anniversaries. She condemns them as en- 
couraging the idea that there is a reality to 
material things. I am inclined to be more 
lenient. But the anniversary, more especially 
the birthday, should never be a time for 
mourning over what is past and done. In- 
stead, it should be made a new starting place 
for the keenest appreciation of life, for the 
winning of the best that life has to give, and 
for a clearer consciousness as to just what life 
means, both in this world and the world to 
come. None of us is responsible for his first 
birthday. But each of us is responsible for 
the use he makes of the gift thus bestowed 
upon him. 



[252] 



V 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Nov. 2007 

PreservationTechnologies 

A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 

111 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 16066 
(724)779-2111 



